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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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