“Om mani padme hum.”
Sometimes on my meditations, I slip sideways instead of staying in my own head. I’m still not able to hold position with a completely “empty” mind as my thoughts run off in every conceivable (and inconceivable) direction immediately. Focusing on the breath does help, but focusing on a mantra brings my attention to a singular point.
For a while at least.
For the past couple of weeks, when I do slip sideways and find myself walking on a certain road or sitting at a certain fire, something comes out of the shadows to accompany me for a while. That something doesn’t always speak, but when it does, it has only one thing to say.
“Use a different mantra.”
I then snipe back that I don’t know any other mantras or sayings that won’t further distract me. I use that one because the person I learned meditation from offered it as a mantra to focus on, and the meaning of it is not so tied to any restrictive mindset that I could use it without trespassing. The something shrugs and leaves as I bring my focus back to the point with that familiar phrase. “Om mani padme hum.”
The past two weeks have been a roller coaster of exhilarations and fears. Optimism and pessimism struggle to take the prize of Most Extreme Condition in the face of people justifying my misanthropy. The future is darker than my tea while the past necromances itself into the present. I could really use that inner peace and enlightenment right about yesterday.
“Om mani padme hu… uh… no.” The something is right. This is not a good fit for me. I’m using that mantra like a security blanket, to hide under and pretend that everything is okay. If I can’t see past the mantra, then nothing past the mantra can see me. My teacher is a good man and he taught me well about the challenges that come with trying to tame one’s thoughts. He often repeated that if a thing was not working for the student, then the student should find the thing that does. Very well. I had already listened to a bastard’s advice for the waking moments. Let’s see what happens here.
“AŌTH ABRAŌTH BASYM ISAK SABAŌTH IAŌ.”
The absence of noise that follows shocks me back into this world. I wasn’t prepared for that. I check my seating, and go through the physical movements of alignment, focus my thoughts, and say it again and again until I realize I had stopped physically saying it and was riding a looping wave of memory of the sound.
I slip sideways again and open my eyes to find myself seated at a certain fire. The something is across from me, watching through the flames. “Better.”
I don’t reply. I don’t engage. I don’t even nod. I close my eyes and repeat my new mantra, letting my tongue slip over the syllables and my memory mark the meanings and possible etymologies. I feel the something watching in silence.
The sound of a bell marks the end of my morning meditation period and the start of a new day of bullshit. I want to be excited about the different response, but I’m also cautious of FNG syndrome. With all these different sources I’m pulling from, there is no telling what I’m cooking up for myself.