Meditation

My brain would rather be anywhere but here — planning dinner, rehearsing catastrophes, fantasizing — as if the present moment were the one place it can’t bear to stay.

The shame of buying a pack, and the way my body betrays me by feeling better the moment I decide to do it.

The anatomy of craving a cigarette — mental, bodily, and the tricks my brain plays to get me to succumb.

My mind wanders during meditation. To blowjobs, salami, smoke detectors, and pretzels. Not necessarily in that order. Well, actually, yes – in that order.

V noticed I’ve gone quiet. She’s right. The signs are all there — less writing, less meditating, more porn, worse diet, and worst of all, I’ve been sneaking cigarettes.

Sex is my breath: endlessly complex, always with me, and not really about enjoyment.

I came to meditation through Elizabeth Gilbert and the Hare Krishnas, which should tell you something about me.

When I wanted something, I had to have it — not out of weakness, but out of confusion.