Column Chronicles: How I was taught to meditate and became enlightened, part two

How I was taught to meditate and became enlightened, part two

Frank Cotolo
November 5, 2015

My first experience with meditation began slowly, with Swami Yami humming a single note and my derriere becoming numb from sitting on cold concrete. He told me I was going to use my "beginner's mind," which is my "shoshin," which means beginner's mind in Japanese. I pleaded he refrain from teaching me any more Japanese because a beginner's mind could not learn something so difficult.

Swami Yami then told me to listen. "Listen," he said, "to every thought you have. Don't pay attention to what any of one means, just listen to their sounds. One thing before you start, though."

"What?"

"Do you have your holster and gun with you?"

"Yes. It's in my holster."

"Good. It's all right if you keep that on, by the way."

I thanked Swami Yami and then did as he instructed: I started to listen to my thoughts.

There were so many sounds, soft sounds, sweet sounds, sour sounds. My thoughts were meaningless, except one that described what my friend's sister had pleased me in bed with a wooden spoon and an eggbeater. Then that thought turned into a sound and then all thoughts became one long, floating.

I was feeling peaceful. I didn't know I was meditating because to know is to relate to meaning. My senses focused on mere existence. Time itself meant nothing.

My spell was broken by a loud sound that echoed off of the hard walls. I opened my eyes and there lay Swami Yami, his left temple streaming blood and my handgun resting in his left hand. In between his folded legs was a piece of paper with writing on it. Softly, I lifted the page from his listless body and read it.

"I don't want to live anymore. In fact I never wanted to live in the first place. I owe it to myself to rid the world of myself." - Yami.

I did not cry, nor did I judge. I accepted his action. Were it not for meditation I would have gone into a panic, searching for an explanation and fearful that I was in a heap of trouble. Instead, I took my gun from his hands, put it in my holster, dressed and left. I sauntered through London, at last enlightened.

Frank Cotolo can be found hosting the talk and interview programme Cotolo Chronicles. You can send him an e-mail at this address: frank@148.ca.