A Meditation
“Inhale, 2, 3, 4. Exhale, 2, 3, 4. Deeper inhale 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale 2, 3, 4, 5. Good. Deeper. Longer. Slower.” The voice in your ears urges you on, trying to guide you into a deeper and deeper sense of relaxation.
But it’s not working. As you suspected would be the case, you are too much in your mind to ever really let someone else in it, even if it is just a stupid guided meditation. A frustrated sigh escapes your lips. You move to take the headphones off.
But something about the voice on the recording catches your attention. Its sultry. A bit deep, smoky. She sounds...confident? You’re not sure...for a split second you consider continuing to listen. But you don’t. Out pop the earbuds, and you move ahead with your day.
Later, as you move from train to office, or when getting coffee, or eating...there’s a nagging inside. A feeling like there is something you should’ve done but haven’t. You can’t pinpoint it, so you just push the thought aside. But pretty soon, pushing it aside doesn’t work. Your brain spins round and round, trying to remember what you could have possibly forgotten. Nothing. Irked at the failures in your memory palace, you pack up your things and leave work.
Your ride home consists of raking your brain, over and over without success. It scares you...you pride yourself on your cerebral nature. On being on top of everything. On always being in control. But you are definitely not in charge right now. No, right now your thoughts are racing and swirling, grasping at something invisible but within reach. Your inability to shut off that hamster wheel produces feelings that live somewhere between disconcerting and exciting.
When you next look at your surroundings, you are shocked to find that you are at home and it is dark out. You can’t remember how you got to your place; it’s a 1.5 mile walk home from the station. You definitely can’t remember where the last 4 hours have gone. You can see that you haven’t eaten. You haven’t had anything to drink. You have definitely not done any drugs. It seems like you have literally just been sitting on the couch for almost 4 hours. No TV, no podcasts, no music. Just you trying to... remember?
This is seriously out of character for you. Sure, you are almost always deep in thought, but not like this. You’re known for being a fast thinker, a problem solver. You’ve often wished that you could shut off your brain for a while and just enjoy some silence. But this is different than what you imagined it would be like to “not think.” It’s like you’re in some sort of very strange trance in a strange place. Everything around you seems simultaneously foreign yet familiar.
WTF, you wonder. What is going on? The only thing out of the ordinary about your day was listening to that meditation in the morning. You’d tried listening with the specific hope that it would give you a break from your propensity toward non-stop thinking. This is not to say that you wanted to stop thinking entirely; much of your success was directly attributable to your ability to mindfuck a problem until you found the solution.
But today, tonight, your most powerful asset is failing you. You’re not thinking because you...can’t? Something is restraining you. Like a switch was flipped in your brain and you’ve been turned into a submissive. No free will. No choice. No ability to forestall...what?
Suddenly a thought pops into your head, and you’re grateful for it. The haziness in your brain is replaced with a vivid clarity, and a thought comes to you. The inevitable. You have no ability to forestall the inevitable. And that’s the place you’re in.
Thinking about that sends a subtle shiver through your body. You realize you’re a bit...aroused? There’s a giddy feeling in your stomach. You’re eager for something, but you don’t know what. You’re not scared, though you know (somewhere inside of you) that what is going on right now is not normal. You’re more perplexed. A bit intrigued. Excited for...the inevitable.
But you’re at a bit of a loss about what you’re supposed to do next. You tell yourself that “it doesn’t really matter if it’s all inevitable, right?” So you sit back down. You notice that your heart is racing. Your hands feel clammy, and you’re sweating a bit. It reminds you of the way you felt the first time you got laid; hopeful that something amazing was about to happen, but not particularly clear on the mechanics of how you would get there.
You laugh at your anxious anticipation. “You don’t even know what the fuck you’re excited for!” you say out loud, in exasperation. You shake your head. You think, “This is idiotic, right? What am I doing?” You decide whatever is happening needs to stop. You try to turn your thoughts to other things. You go to stand up. You go to do ANYTHING. But something won’t let you. An invisible force pulls your mind, your body, back to this moment and your overwhelming sense of need. And though you have no clue what it is you are so desperate for, you are decidedly confident that this is the place where it will be found. Or where it will find you. You stay put.
You notice the earbuds are back in your ears. You are sure that they were not a few minutes ago, but they are now. You glance down and notice that your phone has appeared in your hand. You are positive that wasn’t the case 60 seconds ago. But you’ve been here the whole time.
You look at your phone, but it seems like something is wrong. The usual flurry of notifications is absent. No messages. No email. No news. You unlock your phone, but in the place of your wall of app icons is a lone floating button. You try to scroll. You try to quit. You try to restart. But nothing happens. The button, and only the button, is all you can get to display.
You hesitate, and then tentatively touch the button. A voice comes through your headphones. A slightly familiar voice. “Inhale, 2, 3, 4. Exhale.” You realize: it’s the voice from the meditation! But...it feels somehow different than it was earlier.
Before, you felt like she was giving you gentle suggestions; now it’s almost like an order. A demand. And while you usually bristle when people try to tell you what to do, you are immediately willing to obey. Not just willing, but wanting. Needing to. Must.
Your attention snaps back to the voice. She’s urging you to breathe in and out, over and over again. Unusually pliant, you instantly comply. And then the words start to sound different, too. Gone is the visualization of a staircase, and the calming recommendation to sink deeper into relaxation. Instead, in almost a whisper, she says, “Listen. I’m going to tell you what you need to do. And you are going to do it. Now.”
Unprompted, you let loose an audible “Yes.”
Almost as if in response, she says “Good. Very, very good.” But she’s not actually answering you, is she? She can’t really hear what you’re saying, right?
The response comes almost as soon as the thought is formed. “Oh, yes. I am definitely talking to you, and to only you. And I can hear what you say, and, more importantly, what you don’t, or won’t, say.”
For what might be a first in your life, you’re speechless.
She continues, “Do you know why I’m here? Do you know what I’m going to do? I’ve been planning for this, and practicing, for a very long time. To train you. Or, rather, retrain you. To show you how all the ways you tell yourself you are in control are actually total bullshit. I’m here to give you what you really want. But more. What you need. And what you will never be able to live without again.”
All of this seems impossible. All of this IS impossible, right? You set the phone down next to you, and the voice stops speaking mid sentence. You feel a wave of relief wash over you; it IS just a recording. None of this is real. It’s all just some fever dream or hallucination, and when you wake up things will be back to normal. You take a deep inhale, and let it all go.
Your phone is almost dead. You stand up, happy that whatever it was that made you feel so strange has passed. You look at your phone; all your apps are back where they are supposed to be. You take this as further proof that nothing actually happened.
You take the earbuds out, and return them to their case. And then you hear it. You hear her voice. But this time it’s not in your ears; it’s in your head.
With a low whisper, she says “Oh. Yeah. You can’t get rid of me that easily. So let’s begin.”