Tuesday, September 20, 2022

While we were meditating last night

Jen Bradford, Dhr. Seven, Ananda (Dharma B Meditation), Monrovia Group, Wisdom Quarterly
What did "Karen" imagine she was looking at us doing -- tripping on acid in the Sixties?

What has the world come to? We were meditating in the park, a group of 18 of us, as day turned into evening.

It's what we (Dharma Buddhist Meditation led by non-secular Ranger Tod in Monrovia) do every Monday in an exclusive neighborhood park nestled in the foothill suburbs of the great megalopolis that is Los Angeles.

Eaton Falls in Eaton Canyon, Pasadena, LA
The heat wave has settled, and a pleasant breeze blows into the bowl that is this secret park, as we sit in Concrete Zen Zero (Enso) gazing at the mountains of the Angeles National Forest above LA, near a secret waterfall (like the one at Eaton Canyon) that runs even in the height of the summer from the local watershed.

We stood, stretched, and walked mindfully, winding through the park then settled in for a guided meditation led by UCLA's MARC (Mindful Awareness Research Center)-trained Ranger Tod. Next week Ranger Eugene will be the special guest to explain the status of our former waterfall meditation stie that was hit by the climate chaos wildfires Southern California enjoys every year.

UCLA's MARC trains mindful meditators (mindfulness becoming "mindful awareness").
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What-r-u doin? I'll call the police!
We sat in a circle of folding chairs and blankets, lulled and transfixed by meditation leader Tod, who spoke by analogy of a great mountain. Then it happened. A local Karen wandering through the park in the dark turned and could not ignore what she was seeing. "Is everything all right here?!" she blurted, disturbing our sacred peace.

No one moved. No one stirred. So she yelled again. A few heads turned to find the source of the disturbance. And there she was in all her jagged haircut, huskiness, and contorted face glory, staring in confusion.
Americans who meditate? What the heck!
Do Americans do group meditation post-1960s?
Someone in the circle (Steve?) assured her we were. She didn't believe it but sucked it in and went on her way, no dog to walk, no reason to be out, except maybe to cure her busy-body-ness.

I would have said, "No, can you help us be better?" by inviting her to take a place in the suddenly sacred circle. But I was so serene I was in no mood to laugh or cause others to giggle in relief. We bore her concern. What could she have thought was going on? That the Kool-Aid was setting in and Tod was about to join the Rev. Jim Jones in infamy?

Walking Meditation (fordhouse.org)
We resumed. But the during the sharing phase -- which can go on as long as participants like, each contributing a gem of wisdom mined in our arduous efforts to arrive, leave the day behind, and let go of worry -- Karen came up. Rachel remembered.

Why had Karen thought we were in need of her jarring interruption? Was she looking for trouble, challenging her peers to explain themselves? Peace reigned. But she did deepen the conversation by bringing contrast to how calm and serene we were when she spoke. In any case, Simmer down, Karen.

The park is hidden in a residential neighborhood on Grand Ave. in Monrovia in the foothills
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