Hello, friends, heathens and friends who are also heathens. I just returned from a very expensive meditation retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center, an all-inclusive package of spiritual cleansing, rejuvenation and lower back pain.
Forged anew, I am now a god. So bow before me, for I’ve experienced the privilege of wearing soft white linen.
I don’t know about you, but I feel celestial. In light of meditation’s growing popularity, I decided to take a seven-day retreat to escape my upper-class life. And in the blink of swiping my Amex Platinum, I found myself one with Earth Mother. Like any pagan, I was incredulous regarding the benefits of meditation: mindfulness, the feeling of air in my nostrils and an alternative method of napping.
But after this white-linen odyssey, I transformed into a divine avatar, forever etched into the Valhalla of gods who breathe slowly through their noses. And yes, the legend is true: my godlike ability empowers me to focus on just my breaths and count them, one after the other, until I become sleepy.
Neuroscientists and people with disposable income argue that mindfulness will be the 21st century’s most important topic, not to mention its being a word that nobody understands. Unfortunately, you still won’t know even after wearing soft white linen. But let’s not squabble over semantics. You say namaste,I say Another Clever-Sounding Pressed-Juice Slogan — it’s all the same.
It did, however, take me a while to readjust back into pagan society. But I eventually did it with the help of my Amex Platinum. Using my new godlike powers, I started a side hustle. After meditating on several ideas until my lower back hurt, I launched a Patreon so my followers can pay tribute to me, their one true god (disclaimer: I may be a god, but I still like money). Top donors will receive meditation coaching sessions, during which I’ll shout ancient Buddhist mantras into their ears while my speakers play Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer.” Trust me, this is the way to enlightenment, you non-breath-counting heathens.
I will use this power only when absolutely necessary, but my true strength from meditation is living in the moment, a motto that I also use as a caption on Instagram. Living in the moment is not a power to be trifled with, though it makes me miss using my imagination for visualizing sex positions. In fact, this one time, a 6’4” 270-pound WWE fighter named Sheamus was about to pick a fight with me outside an Applebee’s. But since I was living in the moment, he backed down from hitting me with his to-go box of Apple Chimicheesecake. I just closed my eyes and breathed through my nostrils, confusing him and making him realize that my head may not have all the lights turned on. As he walked away with a look of pity, I felt like the Thor of Applebee’s. Remember: count your breaths if you want to feel like Chris Hemsworth.
Alas, I feel renewed. I feel complete. I also feel like all that sitting will give me a spinal hernia. But I’m forever grateful for Spirit Rock Meditation Center, a sanctuary where I discovered my divinity and a fetish for soft white linen. My only feedback is that I wish they hadn’t taken away my iPhone.
