How To Meditate Without Being Consumed By Memories Of That Thing You Did
When you close your eyes, focus on your breathing, and find peace in the silence, you will inevitably find yourself fighting back the memory of that thing you did that time. That horrible, horrible thing. Without a bevy of distractions to keep the memory at bay, the look in their eyes as your victim slowly realized what you were doing to them comes roaring back. With these easy steps, that one horrible moment that screams at you whenever you close your eyes will be kept behind the emotional wall you’ve built around that horrible thing, letting you finally find peace through meditation.
Acknowledge The Distraction
The eyes. The second you close yours, you see his. Kevin. Poor, sweet Kevin. The betrayal in his eyes cuts you like a dagger to your heart.
Acknowledge the distraction, the move on. Return to your breathing. Feel the rise and fall of your belly, the same way that Kevin once stood proudly but was felled with a simple touch to his back. That’s all it took. Stifle your screams and feel your violent trembling wind down as you return to your breath.
Be Mindful Of Yourself
Feel your panicked grimace melt back to neutral. Feel your arms lower you as you acknowledge that you were trying to defend yourself from the same horror you inflicted upon Kevin. Simply sit and know you’re sitting.
Feel the terror swell once again as the thought of sitting brings the horror of Kevin’s eyes right back. There are sounds now breaking through the fog of repression. The thwack of your pat on his back. A foot slicing through the air paired with a sickening thud. A yelp that fades to a sustained whimper, followed by the single word Kevin spoke to let you know his heart was broken: “Why?”
Return to your breath.
Honor Its Power
By pushing away these memories and emotions, we make them more powerful. Don’t resist or the memory will resist back, in the same way that Kevin tragically couldn’t. For just a moment, indulge the memory of the horrible thing you did. Allow it to fill itself out, to complete its replay uncensored by your sense of self-preservation.
The foot cuts through the air again. It strikes Kevin’s backside. You can feel some degree of relief that it wasn’t your foot, but neither were all of the other feet that followed, each pushing Kevin further down a high school hallway. Lean into the uncertainty, letting it inform your practice. Make it a mantra: “Am I a monster? Am I a monster?”
Return to your breath.
Hold in the air at the top of your next breath. Contemplate holding it in until you pass out, but don’t go through with it. Better to keep that in your back pocket like a cyanide pill in case things get bad. Release the breath as if with it you were exhaling the memory of that thing you did.
You see the feet un-kicking him from the end of the hall back to you. It freezes with your hand on his back. From beneath your hand, you hear a crinkling you haven’t heard before.
It all makes sense when you pull your hand away. Fastened to his back with Scotch tape is a sheet of white paper with the words “kick me.” You slapped it onto his back between third and fourth period. It was just a silly prank on a friend. But every student in the crowded hall obeyed the law of the “kick me” sign until he was just a dot on the hallway horizon.
Some say he just transferred schools. Others say far worse. Either way, he was never seen again. None of that matters now. Through meditation, you can right all wrongs. Complete the erasure with a new mantra. Repeat “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Return to your breath. Feel the rise and fall of your belly. Feel the memory melt away. Open your eyes.
Repeat as necessary for all of your crimes.