Visualize Consistency

One fine more-than-halfway-through-our-vacation day, Little Girl went off with her grandma to play Jarts between the sagebrush—lawn darts having evolved from the pointy-tipped implements of doom that they were back in my misspent youth to the point where they had become suitable for members of my family—and I grimly set out to attempt to meditate.

I had purchased four guided meditations for 99 cents each—a neatly disposable sum, one which I should not have to feel extensive guilt for, should the meditations turn out to be less than useful (or, perchance, not used at all due to my stubborn procrastinatorial nature)—and had duly carted them along on our personal holiday, but I still resisted actually listening to them.

It's just not as much fun as heavy metal, you know?

Anyway, as the Jart game progressed into strategic alteration of the existing—and thoroughly complicated, it seemed—rules, and I sat stewing over the hard lump of writer's block coal that had somehow wound up in my sock that morning, it seemed as good a time as any to bite the meditation bullet.

I set aside my writing implements, plugged my headphones into my ears, selected the shortest meditation in my well-traveled options (about 12 minutes), sighed, and pushed "Play".

The speaker in this particular selection was a male, and had a lovely bit of accent—Australian, I believe—which was, if not precisely soothing, at least not unpleasant. I listened, popped my eyes back open when the Aussie's lilting instructions revealed I was not yet supposed to close them, and thereafter tried to follow the instructions I was being given—and only those instructions.

Things went along fairly well for a bit. I was, I was told, walking in a richly-colored autum forest. Visualizing this scene presented only a modest problem, for the "bright colors" bit wasn't mentioned just at first, so when it did come into play, I had to drag my mind's eye self right out of the forest of Wyoming pines I had been walking in and instead drop my imaginary ass into a deciduous forest of undetermined location instead.

Awk-ward!

Once the canopy above was composed of the proper species of woody forest denizens for the guided imagery du jour, I was surprised to realize, at some indeterminant point, that I really was relaxing, somewhat, into the scene. Of course, upon reaching such conclusion, I was pulling back from involvement to make my observation, so when I realized THAT, I struggled to reimmerse myself into the exercise.

That, however, is when it all went to hell.

Oh, the scene-setting continued with luscious peacefulness—that wasn't the issue. What happened was that my mellow Australian guide who, despite his uncomfortable, pausing, phrasings (reminiscent of the original James T. Kirk), really was doing a lovely job of crafting a relaxing "walk in the forest", took me from my stroll amongst AUTUMN foliage right out into a clearing "full of flowers".

Wildflowers, as you may or may not be aware, tend to bloom in profuse abundance in SPRING, not fall.

Arrested from my virtual stroll so profoundly that my eyes—now closed, as directed—popped open with the shock of toast being sprung from the cells of its heated creation. A field of flowers? In fall? WTF? My oblivious Aussie guide continued ... haltingly ... along, and I shut my eyes and struggled to find myself in the seasonally-inconsistent scene, in which I was now supposed to be taking off my shoes and socks to cool my heels in the stream.

Shoes and socks? I thought I was barefoot? But why would I be walking through a FOREST barefooted? That wasn't in the instructions ... OH MY GOSH, I'M AS BAD AS HE IS!

Needless to say—at least for those familiar with the wandering, failed reasoning that is typical of my lost, flailing mind—I was not well-involved in the scene after that. I would wonder if there were fish in the stream, and if so, what kind, and then try to get back into it. And why, I thought at some point as my guide droned on about the stream, were wildflowers even mentioned? How could I see them, lying back on the rock, and how was this supposed to be comfortable?

Screw this. MY rock has moss all over it. Although, it wouldn't have moss if it were in full sun, so that means there must be a tree nearby, and there can't be trees, because I'M NOT IN THE AUTUMN FOREST ANYMORE ... I'M IN SPRING FLOWERS NOW.

I do believe it was the longest 12 minutes I've ever spent in either forest or flowers, and when it finally ended—with a smoothly-delivered reminder to to return to the calming forest daily, if not more often—I was only too glad to exit completely.

Because I'd been mostly out of the "relaxing" scene for the bulk of the allotted visiting time anyway.

My other three meditations are from different sources, so I can only hope they will be set in different scenes. I will miss the lilting accent of my slow-speaking, seasonally-challenged meditation guide, but should I be so fortunate as to find myself in a logically compatible setup during my next meditation challenge, I'm sure it will only be to the benefit of my racing mind.

Clearly, I cannot stop for inconsistency.