By Stillman Brown
When I first started meditating I found myself trying to explain exactly what I was doing to a close friend. I’ve found it’s hard to describe without sounding obscure or over-complicating the whole thing.
“I sit and watch the breath, and, ah, that’s about it,” I said to my friend. I paused, listening for noises of understanding on the other end of the line. “I mean, it’s also a way of training the mind to, you know, settle. Like a jar full of dirty water that, uh, settles.” I paused again, trying to wrestle the essence of the thing into a sentence with the right amount of meaning.

“Does any of that make sense?” I tried.
“So, can you levitate?” he asked.
End of discussion.
For a while after that experience, I was leery about talking about my practice; I didn’t want a repeat of that first depressing exchange – it hurt. Recently, however, friends have been asking, “What are those cushions for?” “Where do you go on Monday nights?” and “How did you get so wise?” I’ve been more forthcoming and had a number of meaningful discussions with my Catholic, Muslim, and fundamentalist Christian friends. I also think that the explosion of yoga practices has exposed more and more people to meditation. But I still find that a lot of people have no idea what meditation is of what it is for. Ludicrously Orientalist misconceptions are alive and well.
So, for your amusement and mine, I’ve written the following vignettes about common (and perhaps not-so-common) mis-representations and silly ideas about practice:
“Do you levitate?”
[Scene: A trendyish yoga studio just north of Houston Street in New York City. Rice paper globes of light appear to float of their own will above a highly polished wood floor. Incense burns thick and sticky. Two practitioners sit facing one another in saffron robes. They sport shaved heads, a profusion of beads, and a pair of smirks that say, We. Are. Englightened.]
Meditator 1: (deep breathing)
Meditator 2: (deep breathing)
Meditator 1: Hmmmmm….
Meditator 2: Gmmmmm….
Meditator 1: (seeming to come back from a distant place) Shall we levitate?
Meditator 2: Yes.
[Both figures tense with powerful concentration. They strain, relax, strain, relax. Slowly, one begins to lift off the cushion, legs crossed, hands on his knees. One inch, two inches, a foot, three feet. His companion is slower. She strains, shakes, then shoots up five feet. They dangle there, as if suspended from strings. A pervasive sense of wisdom is felt by all.]
Meditator 1: Yes.
Meditator 2: Righteous.
–
“Do you know tantra?”
“Uh…”
[Scene: A forbidden temple deep in the mountains of Shangri-la. Mist floats through the trees and temple columns like a milk shake. A gong can be heard in the distance. Inside, cauldrons of coals give off an intense heat. The smell of incense is thick and heady. Scores of toned monks and nuns copulate very, very slowly. Concubines litter the floor like throw pillows.]
–
“It’s just so Asian!”
Meditator 1: Shall we meditate?
Meditator 2: I enjoy rice, acupuncture, work ethic, math, and strong nuclear families.