I’ve started taking meditation classes.

Like real meditation.

Turns out the teacher is a disciple of Swami Kriyananda, a direct disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda. A couple years ago I got halfway through his book, Autobiography of a Yogi. I didn’t realize this was the study I was signing up for. This pleases me though. It’s the practice my dad studied when I was a kid. I didn’t realize that either. I have always said the dad I knew then is different from the dad I know now. Both are good dads to know but the the former had a really mellow vibe. It was great to have it around when I was little. One thing he would say about the teachings that’s always stuck with me is that they believe we don’t have a body. I think I’m smart but I couldn’t get that. Fortunately, our teacher reviewed this philosophy in our first class. It makes sense now. I get it.

I’m hoping this helps with my hopelessness. That doesn’t make any sense. Just give me the truth. I signed up when for the first time in my life I realized I couldn’t figure something out. The pain seemed excruciating. But I finally knew I just needed to sit.


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