I try to meditate almost every morning. I usually wake up before 6am, without an alarm clock, and enjoy taking the time to get my buddha on before I let the world or other people’s shit into or near my head. I like the breakfast nook area in the back of our apt. It’s relatively quiet and dark. The apartment next to ours was renovated and no one has lived there in quite some time.
Last week I get up, go to my spot and meditate for about forty minutes. I finish a with a sense of clam serenity and slowly open my eyes to see, directly in front of me, through the well-lit sliver of a New York City bathroom window… some dude’s junk.
My meditation spot has lost the private sanctity it once had. I now approach my spot apprehensively, timing my meditation around this guy’s schlong. This morning as I went to the kitchen to feed the cats I could hear music. It was my neighbor. This morning it was just his ass, shaking away to the sound of The Carpenters.