The Bucket List, page 11
She instructs us to find a yoga mat. They are rolled out on the floor all over the room. I choose the blue one right next to Lila, who chooses a violet one.
Class starts soon afterward, and we begin with some easier moves. Mountain pose. A forward bend. So far, so good. But as we move along, I quickly realize that I need to do more stretches at home. We get to downward dog, and I'm more like a downward disaster. I'm so stiff, and I can't seem to get in the right position.
Star comes over to me and gently adjusts my pose. She tells me to relax my shoulders and take a deep breath to deepen the stretch, but nothing much happens. My shoulders seem to be permanently attached to my ears.
At that moment, I realize just how stressed I've been for so many years. I’d had no idea what effect it had on my body. I seem incapable of relaxing, and that makes me sad. I realize that Monica sent me on this part of the journey because she knew I needed it. She always knew what I needed. Even when I couldn't see it, she could. How will I live the rest of my life without her?
We do all sorts of poses throughout the class, including tree pose. This is one where you stand up and bring one of your feet to the inside of the opposite knee. It's a balance pose, and I thought I had good balance. And when I fall into Lila and almost knock her over, I realize I do not have good balance after all.
When the class ends, we immediately move into meditation. Star turns the lights down even more, and the music changes to something softer.
This is the part of the evening I have not been looking forward to. I've never been good quieting my mind, not even when I was a little kid. I remember when we used to pray in church, and it was the worst part of the entire service. I loved the music, and I didn't even mind the sermon because our pastor was loud and boisterous. His face would turn red, and I would worry that he was going to have a stroke. He was what one would refer to as a fire and brimstone kind of preacher.
But it was the praying part I didn't enjoy. Not because I don't believe in prayer, but because I didn't like to quiet my mind. Sitting in a room full of people who were quietly praying with their eyes closed made me more anxious. I know, it's weird.
As the meditation begins, my mind races. Did I turn off my stove? Is that a spider on the wall across the room? What am I going to eat for lunch tomorrow? And then that embarrassing moment from sixth grade pops into my mind. And then that thing that boy said to me in eighth grade. Did I pay the light bill?
My mind is all over the place. I realize this is probably what it's like during the day, but I don't notice it because I don't stop to listen. I just let all the crazy voices talk to one another in my head while I maneuver through my day. Is this what I've been saying the whole time? Is this why I'm always so wound up?
I try to focus on my breath, but my brain is like a monkey swinging from one thought to the next. Just when I think I am getting the hang of it, another weird thought comes in. Like, how do I know the color blue is the color blue? I mean, what if I call it blue but other people see something totally different that they consider to be blue? And then I just go round and round with this thought for what seems like an eternity.
Then I hear someone's stomach growling. Is that my stomach? Is that Lila? How much longer until dinner?
I think of something funny. I don't even remember what it is. I start to laugh, so I stifle it. Then that takes me back to a memory from high school when I laughed so hard that I snorted soda out of my nose. It burned really bad.
The meditation ends, and I'm bummed. Not because it ended. I wanted it to end. I'm bummed because I didn't do well at it. Just another thing that I can't seem to do correctly. I just know if I could somehow quiet my mind, that would be life-changing for me. Oh well, it's dinnertime, so at least there's that.
I make a beeline for the door with Lila right behind me. She's going on and on about how wonderful meditation was. I'm wondering if we were in the same room. We have to walk outside through a breezeway to get to the cafeteria.
"I mean, I don't think I've ever been so calm!" Lila says as we walk into a room with tables and a buffet set up on one wall.
"Well, I'm glad you are. I was off in some other dimension thinking about funny high school memories, and whether I turned off the stove."
"Don't worry. I'm sure we're going to do many more meditations before we leave."
I know she means that to be reassuring, but that's not how I'm taking it.
For now, I’m just going to focus on the beautiful assortment of food in front of me. If there’s one thing I can do well, it’s eat.
CHAPTER 10
After Lila and I have breakfast, we are instructed to go sit alone in the meditation garden. Lila has her eyes closed and appears to be off in some other dimension. I, on the other hand, am staring at a bumblebee on a flower about six feet away from me. I miss TV.
I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. A turn around to see that it is Star, and she puts her index finger over her mouth. She waves for me to come with her, and I follow her back into the building. She leads me to the meditation room and shuts the door behind us.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your quiet time, but I wanted to talk with you."
“What's going on?"
"It seems that you're struggling here. And if I'm wrong, please tell me."
I shake my head. "No, you're completely right. I don't think yoga and meditation are my things."
"I used to think the same thing," she says, smiling. Star looks like she stepped right out of some commune in the nineteen-sixties. She definitely does not look like anybody who would have struggled with meditation.
"You seem like you are doing pretty well with it."
"Of course, I am now. I know you probably don't believe it, but I used to be a stockbroker."
I almost swallow my tongue. "A stockbroker?"
"Yes. I worked in New York City for three years. If you want high stress, that's the place to go."
“I would've never imagined that you were a stockbroker."
“It was several years ago. But I had what I would consider to be a nervous breakdown, and meditation saved me. So I started studying it, and then I opened this place two years ago. I want to help you because I get the feeling that stress is taking over your life. Am I right?"
"I can't say that you're wrong. I'm only here because my best friend passed away, and I'm trying to finish her bucket list for her. This is one thing she had on her bucket list."
"That's a very noble thing for you to do. But I would like for you to get something out of this. Do you mind if we do a private meditation session right now?"
"I mean, I don't want to take up your time, but I am willing to try."
She smiles. "Good. That's the first step. Being willing to try. Let me get some things set up, and I'll be right back." She stands up and trots off to turn down the lights and turn on some music. She lights some incense. I don't have the heart to tell her I hate incense. "Okay, I want you to take a deep breath very slowly and then blow it out through pursed lips."
At first, I find it incredibly difficult to concentrate on my breath. Again, my mind wanders. I think about the things I need to do when I get home, and I think about the things I've done in the past. I can't seem to shake these feelings of restlessness. But Star continues to be patient, and she reminds me to return to my breath whenever I feel my mind drift.
She instructs me to focus on the sensation of my breath as it moves in and out of my body. She says to notice thoughts that are coming up but don't get caught up in them. She encourages me to be gentle with myself, and to let go of expectations or judgments that I might have about myself or meditation in general.
As we continue, I start to feel my mind clearing. For the first time in all the time I can remember, I can feel what it feels like to be in the present moment. My thoughts are not racing ahead of me. They are staying with me where I am. I feel no worries or anxiety. I'm just here. I want to stay here forever. I feel so liberated, and the stress is lifting. When the session ends, I can feel a smile on my face. I can't seem to wipe it off. It's just there. Star leads me through a visualization exercise where she asks me to envision a place where I’m feeling calm and peaceful.
She tells me to immerse myself in that image. I put myself on the beach behind Monica's house. The warm sand. The blue water. I feel myself standing there so much that I swear I feel the sun on my skin and hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline. I'm grateful for this moment of peace.
A few moments later, Star tells me to open my eyes. I'm still smiling, and I feel some tears running down my cheeks. I had expected the anxiety to immediately return, and I'm sure it will at some point, but right now it's gone. I just feel here, in the moment. I don't think I've ever felt so relaxed.
I thank Star over and over for helping me understand what meditation can really do. And for helping me realize I can do it. She has given me tools I can take home and use.
"This was just a brief session because we have to eat lunch soon, but I'm going to make you an audio recording to take home. That way you can do the visualization exercise with my voice in the background. Would that be helpful?"
Without thinking, I hug her tightly. I don't normally do that. I'm not a touchy-feely kind of person in general. But I'm so grateful to her. This is the first time anyone has ever taken away my anxiety, even for short periods of time.
She looks surprised that I hugged her, but not offended.
"Thank you so much. I have to say that I came here very skeptical. I didn't think this would work for me. But now I believe I can do it. I can help ease my anxiety and get help from meditation. I really appreciate you taking the time with me."
Star smiles. "Every day is a new beginning. We get to choose whether it's a good one or a bad one. It doesn't matter how anxious you've been, or for how long. Today you get to choose whether it's a good day or not so good day. Choose wisely."
As I stand in the doorway of the local community center, I can't believe my life has been reduced to this. One thing that Monica had put on her list was speed dating. Monica had no problems getting a date, so I can't figure out why in the world she would ever have wanted to do this.
Sadly, it wasn't hard to find a speed dating opportunity. The woman who signed me up assured me there would be interesting men, and I would probably find my dream date there. Highly doubtful but either way, it's something I need to check off my list. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine the waves crashing against the shore behind the beach house. I have to give myself something to look forward to if I'm going to sit down with these guys.
A woman finally walks over and leads me to my table. Apparently, the men are the ones who move from place to place. I sit down and place my hands on the table in front of me. I don't even know what we’re supposed to talk about. They gave us a list of all possible conversation topics, but I hate small talk with a passion. This is like small talk on steroids.
Apparently, each man gets eight minutes per table. Eight minutes. Eight whole minutes to figure out if this person could be the love of your life. Or, on the other hand, eight minutes to try to slog through with some guy you can't wait to get rid of.
The woman makes a few announcements and then rings a bell. Suddenly, there's a man sitting in front of me. His name tag says Elliot, and he's wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat. He looks to be my age, but he also looks like he needs to move to a retirement village in Florida.
"Hi! I'm Elliot! You’re… Jill?" Yeah, dude. That's what it says on this giant name tag I've pasted to one of my breasts.
I nod. "That's me." I've never been very good at hiding my facial expressions. I'm sure this guy can easily tell that I'm not interested in this entire process, but he just continues. Maybe he's one of those people who doesn't take social cues well.
"I'm super pumped about tonight! Are you pumped?"
Am I pumped? I scan my brain and body to see if I'm pumped. Turns out, I am not pumped.
"It'll definitely be interesting," I say, trying to paste a smile on my face. I probably look like a serial killer right now.
"Well, the paper says to tell each other about ourselves. I'll start. I love pineapple on pizza!" This guy is way too excited about pineapple on pizza. I mean, I can take it or leave it, but it certainly wouldn't be a conversation starter for me.
"Interesting," I say, keeping the smile on my face. My cheeks are starting to hurt.
"Do you like pineapple on pizza?"
“Not particularly."
He looks devastated. That's when I notice there are little pineapples all over his shirt. This guy is dedicated to pineapples. He gets quiet and looks like he’d rather be anywhere else at this point. Probably a pineapple plantation.
“Well, I need to… go to the bathroom.”
“What?”
He stands up and looks around. “I have to go to the bathroom. My stomach is hurting.”
“Um… okay…” I wonder if he ate too much pineapple before arriving. That will give you a stomachache, for sure.
Without another word, Elliott disappears, and I can’t say I’m sad. Now I have a few minutes to gather my thoughts and formulate an escape plan if the next guy is crazy.
“Is everything okay, ma’am?” I turn to see the woman who checked me in at the front desk.
“It’s fine. Elliott likes pineapples a lot, and he has a stomachache,” I blurt out. She stares at me like I’m the crazy one.
“We still have six minutes left. Let me see if I can find you another partner. I want to make sure you get plenty of chances.”
Do I look like I need “plenty of chances”?
“It’s fine. Really. I can just wait…”
“Oh! We have a new man who just walked in. Let me grab him!” She runs off behind me, and I wait for the next goofball to sit down across from me. Of course, he might think the same thing about me.
I feel them walking up behind me, and I’m suddenly very aware of what I look like from behind. Tonight, I swept my hair up into a messy bun. Now I’m wondering if it made me look like a bridge troll from behind.
“Jill, this is…”
“Levi?” I say without letting her finish. Why is this guy always everywhere I go?
“Jilly,” he says, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh, you two already know each other? Wait. Did you already date?”
We both say no at the same time. The woman wanders away, leaving me with this guy I barely know but have kissed. Weird.
“So, how are you?” he asks, still smiling.
“Annoyed.”
“Because of me?”
“Maybe,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms like a child.
“We only have five minutes, so let’s get to it. Would you rather chat about our lives, or would you rather lunge across the table and kiss me?”
I purse my lips. “I didn’t know it was you!” I yell in a whisper.
“Not sure I buy that. You just happened to end up at my high school reunion?”
I stare at him like he’s a lunatic. “How would I know where you went to high school? It was pure coincidence.”
“Don’t you live quite a ways away from Myrtle Beach?”
“Yes, but I purposely chose a place far from home so I wouldn’t know anyone.”
“Right.”
“You don’t have to believe me. Trust me, if I could go back and not kiss you, I would do it gladly.” Lies, all lies.
“Four minutes!” the woman calls over the loudspeaker.
“Why were you in my town if you live in Myrtle Beach?”
“I never said I live in Myrtle Beach.”
“Then where do you live?”
He smiles. “I’m not telling you. I don’t want you peeking in my window while I’m taking a shower or something.”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be tempted.” Lies, all lies again.
Why does this guy get under my skin so bad? I’m attracted to him in a way I can’t describe, but I also want to smack him across the face just for being alive.
“What do you do for a living?” he suddenly asks.
“Nothing right now.” I give in to the small talk because I don’t want to keep talking about kissing and showers.
“So how do you support yourself?”
“With my friend’s money. Remember the bucket list?”
“Ah, so she left money to complete it? Nice.”
“I’d rather have her back and still be working my crappy restaurant job.”
His face softens. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
He pauses for a moment, then clears this throat. “The night you saw me at the bar, I was wearing a suit because I’d just come from my childhood best friend’s funeral.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“So, I would actually like to apologize if I was a bit of a tool that night. I had more drinks than I normally would, and I was deep in grief. His death was unexpected.”
“What happened?”
“He was a cop, and he had an accident on his motorcycle.”
“I remember seeing that on the news. I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Two minutes!”
“Why are you here tonight?”
He laughs. “My buddy told me I needed to do something like this. I haven’t dated in a long time. Long story. Anyway, he sort of forced me to come. So, here I am.”
“And what do you think so far?”
“I think you’re stalking me.” Thankfully, he smiles after he says it. He has a nice smile. Good teeth.
“I am not stalking you. By the way, I have a question.”
“What?”
“At the reunion, this girl told me you had some big breakup in high school and got kicked off the football team.”
