Dropout

The weekend meditation retreat turned into an overnighter. I dropped out and am now back in my comfortable quiet little unit while class is still in session — doesn’t end until noon today.

Having developed (through years of study and working with enlightened teachers) the tools to handle whatever life throws at me without losing my shiz, I didn’t really need a retreat, but I’d nevertheless been looking forward to experiencing the rise meditating with a group of like-minded souls usually brings.

Then, just two weeks before I was to leave for the retreat, all hell broke loose in the area I’d be staying.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you know I believe in signs.

First sign was the Coastal Fire that took with it homes in the upscale neighborhood of Laguna Hills; and when I say upscale, I mean waaaay upscale … mansions … price range $10 million and more.

It gave me pause that the fire was raging out of control only 9 miles away from where I'd be staying, and I watched over the days as it went from 15% to 25% to 70% contained whereupon I decided not to cancel the trip because it would be 100% by the time I headed out that way.

Then came the mass shooting at a church only 5 miles away from where I’d be staying.

I didn’t feel as though I’d be driving into danger, but I did speak to the universe to give me a clear yes or no if these were signs I wasn't to go since whatever was going on appeared to be getting closer to where I would be.

Then, just days before I was to leave, my credit card got hacked …. again.

The sums were minimal — $18 at Overstock, $13 at some Motor Club and my spidey sense told me it’s one of the girls at the new dental office making the charges.

She just didn’t expect I’d notice and be on it so fast, but no matter. I cancelled the card, will pay cash at this dental office in future, and had a new card issued, Fed Ex’d to me in time to not interfere with my plans and again spoke to the universe. Only this time, I asked the universe to do something specific, like flatten a tire, as a clear sign I was not to go to the meditation retreat.

Believe it or not, the morning I was to leave, the car alerted that the rear tire — that previously had a leak, was losing air again. So, on the way out of town I stopped at the tire place to double check. The tire guy said the car was giving me a wrong reading, the tire was fine so, instead of turning around and going back home, I kept going — drove to Laguna.

The weather was cold and dreary when I arrived and walking into the hotel room was like walking into a refrigerator.

Maintenance showed up, MacGyvered the A/C equipment to where it would put out heat but only with the fan running.

So much for a 5-Star hotel.

The hotel was fully booked, there wasn't a room I could switch to, so I had to tough it out.

First meditation session that evening at 7:45 was a raucous affair.

It was a much smaller group than I’m accustomed to ─ around 30 souls and they were a chatty group of elderly students so happy at seeing other students and old friends that they couldn’t contain themselves.

Some came from local cities ─ some flew in. One said he came from Florida, one from San Francisco.

I’m trying to meditate and it’s yakety yak as others asked where I was from. One guy introduced himself as Claire.

Seriously.

He said he wasn’t the only guy in his family named Claire. It was some sort of tradition to carry the name down through generations ─ though he said his grandfather flatly refused to call him Claire. His grandad called him Carl.

Fascinating, but I wasn't there for a meet and greet.

Protocol is when one enters the room, one is to be quiet, begin meditating, set the atmosphere for when the teacher arrives.

Most didn’t stop yakking until the teacher walked in. The mood had not been set, I was thrown off center from the yakety yak and, consequently, wasn’t getting anywhere once the teacher began meditating to lift us. I was stuck taxiing on the runway, when I should have been taking off.

Back in the room after that session, I had to contend with the droning of the fan and woke up Saturday with the beginnings of a sore throat from the heat level not being where I needed it to be.

At least the microwave worked, so I was able to feed myself before heading to the 10am session, where it was once again yakety yakety yak when there should have been silence.

The woman who’d arranged for the retreat asked everyone to please quiet down, meditate, set the mood as the teacher was to arrive in 15 minutes.

Most, not all, complied.

In addition to the unruly elderly students inside the room, there were also some unruly children running up and down the hallway.

As I closed my eyes and tried to block everyone out, center myself, I heard one of the kids in the hallway say, "Is someone dead?".

Evidently, he’d peeked in through the open door, saw what he interpreted as having to do with a funeral.

Opening my eyes, looking at the stage where the teacher was to sit, I noticed it kinda did look like a coffin, draped in a black cloth, old people sitting around.

With what the kid said and that image in my mind as the session began, my getting anywhere was again a lost cause. "Is someone dead" suddenly became funny to the point where I had to stiffle an out loud laugh and kept thinking I’ve got to get a photo of what the kid saw to post on the blog (which I did sneak back later, when few were around, and snapped a photo).

While my mind was wandering as a result of what the kid said, I remembered when I was sitting on the steps of a pool and it was so peaceful, so quiet that I began to meditate.

All of a sudden I’m snapped back to earth by the sound of a kid calling out to me "Excuse me Ma’am! Ma’am! Ma’am!".

"Yes?" I replied.

"Oh. Just checking. You weren’t moving so I thought you were dead".

When that incident came to mind, I had to once again stifle an inappropriate laugh out loud. Instead, I started smiling, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the memory. If any of the students happened to be watching me at the time, they probably thought I’d reached the level of supreme joy in meditation, when in actuality my mind was actually a million miles away from the space we were in.

So, anyway, I survived Saturday morning’s session, which ended at noon and inasmuch as it was still cold and dreary outside, it was back to the hotel room — throat still sore and beginning to sniffle where I put in some reading time — finally finished the book I’d started on last year, and took a nap.

I did attend the 3:45 afternoon session, got a few takeaways to ponder, but never left the ground, spiritually speaking. So, heading back to the hotel room knowing there was no point to hanging around for this morning’s session and that if I spent another night in that room’s fan I was going to get very sick, I packed my bags, checked out and was back in my comfortable little unit where, after immediately gargling with warm water and vinegar to heal my throat, I was comfortably on the couch in time to see Midsomer Murders on the BBC channel.