Hello and welcome, I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. A podcast meant for sharing thoughts, stories, enjoying idiomatic phrases and words in general. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. Today, I Just Can’t Shake It!
 
When learning to meditate you get a lot of information that you aren’t supposed to think about when you are doing the deed of not doing anything at all. Did you hear me thoughts?! I’m talking about you! I don’t know if I’ll ever become a master meditator. Even if I did, I couldn’t prove it. I suppose if I did, I wouldn’t need to prove it. That is part of the point. Not having to prove anything to anyone. That is a work in progress.
 
Bottom line, I think I cheat when it comes to meditation. What the hell does that say about me? I’m going to tell you why. You see, I do a guided meditation. That means there is music and a soft, mellifluous voice telling me how to breathe and what to visualize. I love it. I don’t care if it is wrong. By the way, nobody has told me it is wrong. I just assume it is because I’m not under a tree completely and utterly achieving nirvana, all by myself. 
 
That isn’t the worst of it. Notwithstanding the abusive standards. There are double-agent thoughts and feelings that start off harmless enough. They might be sweet, exciting, addictive. Like a plant, you water it, visit with them, let your guard down, and that’s when it happens. Pow! Pum! Splat! Obsession. Thoughts are retraced, over and over again. Like playing a record. Except every time you play it, the grooves get deeper. Replaying the record becomes addictive. Like picking a scab. Don’t pick the scab. Everyone knows this, let it heal. No. pick the scab. It is so satisfying, if only, for the briefest moment. This is when you know the thought has turned on you, or was it actually you turning on yourself? Someone here is the double agent. Once you’ve realized this, you can make a resolution. You will stop the thought, in its tracks. You will practice mindfulness, I’m breathing, I’m breathing I’m breathing. I’m in my present. I’m not thinking about it! NO, I’m NOT! Until it is true. 
 
You’ve passed the hurdle. That was a hard one. That was a long one. There you are, just walking around life, doing things like a normal person. Whatever the fuck that is. But you are doing it and it is like vacation. Focus on life is back. It’s like it never even happened. Ohhhh, no, that is repression! A week, two weeks go by, and then, surprise, like a gunshot in the dead of night, someone says a word, unlocking the seductive double agent. Unlocking the door it was hiding behind. And like a tidal way, it just rushes over you, over me. The daydreams, the repetitive thoughts, the old conversations. The struggle begins at dawn. Like a duel, with the purpose of fending off the repetitive thoughts. Die thought! I pierce it through the heart, I cut off its head! Thought blood spewing everywhere, Tarantino-style. A tight close-up of the thought-brains dripping off my sword! And zoom out, it’s just me. Exhausted all over again. Too exhausted to cry, but I still do. Though blood all over my face and hands. For everyone to see. Like an ugly hat, like a really bad haircut. Shake it off, just shake it off. Continue reading

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