Your Third Eye is Showing

It is mid-evening when we finally leave the meditation hall. The half moon is already high in the Melbourne sky. The July air is crisp and damp. I keep thinking how much it feels like winter in Seattle here. My throat is a little raw from all the chanting and a mild cold. As we walk back to the house we are staying in I ask you how your meditation went. “It went,” you say smiling. I remind myself that this is old hat for you. In 1977 you went to India and spent three years in an ashram.

novice questions the obvious and hidden after the meditation

There’s a short muddy path lined with tall eucalyptus trees that leads to the house. When we reach the street you say, “Hungry? You wanna go to the store and get something to eat?” I don’t really want to go. I want to go back to the house and talk about the meditation. I saw things, felt things, energy moved. What did the Guru mean when he talked about stillness? But you brought me all the way to Australia for this meditation retreat, so I follow your lead and walk with you up the hill to the convenience store.

higher planes call want to stay in the clouds

At the top of the hill we go into the parking lot of the convenience store. There is a small row of gas pumps. A red UTE idles in front of the store. The driver, long-haired and bearded, gives me a strange look as I enter the store. Inside, the layout is the same as any other convenience store I’ve ever been in, though I don’t recognize some of the brands. I find some cough drops and go to the counter to pay. The woman behind the counter gives me the same strange look as the guy in the car. “Been at the ashram have ya?” she asks. “Yeah, how did you know that?” I ask. She taps the spot between her eyes and says, “The red spot on your forehead.” In the back of the store I hear my friend laughing.

Buddha’s belly laugh can wake you up in the strangest places