Swimming Upstream
BELOW THE NEW YORK ZEN CENTER for Contemplative Care there is a very enthusiastic personal trainer named Sammy, who leads a loud exercise class at the exact same time that we have our silent meditation group on Monday and Wednesday evenings and Saturday and Sunday mornings. For the last year, I’ve had an ongoing relationship with Sammy that consists of my constantly going downstairs and saying, “Hi, Sammy. I know you’re really excited about your class, but the floor is vibrating upstairs. Can you turn the music down?” “Of course,” he says. “I am so sorry.” And then the next time our group meets, it happens again. Over and over again.
Recently, though, there was a night that I decided not to go downstairs. It was partly because I was aware of my feeling of righteousness—you know, “I’ve gone downstairs five hundred
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