satori
another weekend at Spirit Rock
sore knees sore back
no satori
driving south on 101 unsatisfied
fog in the city backup at the bridge
three dollars toll in his wallet
in his bag in the trunk stress
no satori
last weekend a solstice celebration
drumming at the red beach
before that workshops
Esalen and Harbin
Hot Springs
nude but no satori
thinks he should return to Shasta
or Sedona for vortex energy
and some hot channeling
he had studied mystical spirituality
taken classes in kabbalah
spent a week in the desert twirling
and fasting reading Rumi
written his own vague unreadable poetry
hymns to the ineffable
tried transcendental meditation
and yogic flying more sore knees
trained in out of body experiences
tried that old time religion
mass every day well for a month
the wooden kneelers distracted him
tried that new time religion
rave mass techno cosmic mass
retreats at Trappist
monasteries
concentrated on receiving the stigmata
and having simultaneous appearances
in guided meditations visualized
or maybe made up the old man
who had a word for him it
was blessed
he smiled Buddha like and told his
group
they just stared
well there you have it
after all his experiential processes
and study
after all the searching and
visualizing kneeling
he was drawing a blank
the search for nirvana was getting on
his nerves
he was beginning to lose faith
his spiritual advisor suggested
openness
embracing uncertainty engaging paradox
feeling the sound of one hand clapping
reading St. John of the Cross
his Jungian therapist
scribbled something
advised reading The Road Less Traveled
and in the end said get a job
then come back
that was different so Tao like
he volunteered at a school
met Rachel who was fine
until the teacher left then screamed
and tried to hit him
he was frightened but came back
in time she sat close in her autism
was quiet when he read stories
and his poetry and sometimes
he thought she understood it
but sometimes she tore up his
papers
screamed and tried to bite while he
held her
their tears mingling
one day she held his hand
and they walked around the playground
when he left they slapped hands a high five
a sound that echoed in his heart
she moved away
he never saw her or heard from her
again
they keep in touch
Richard Lawson