Lotus Position

His ears were scratchy but he dared not scratch. The lotus position had to be maintained, strong, sturdy, back straight. The drone of the one external voice continued to progress, more tolerable, although the fakeness in his accent was still present. His ears move to zero, one hundred percent, all the energy, or rather, the energy he was made to believe (he didn’t) moving in a swirling hot ball of cocoa. Or so he thought.

He started to fuddle up the two words in his mind – just two words to supposedly bring instant clarity. The blue ball in between his eyebrows flickered off and on and off again, repeatedly. A trajectory of perfect zero cannot bring a clarity of truth, or whatever. For even though he tried his best, against all the music, the darkness, the perfect unison of the temporal and the spatial, his mind wandered. Not across galaxies, continents, land masses or oceans. Not through the vast distances of eras and centuries where men fought with honor.

In lotus position, his mind remembered the little slip of paper tucked under his bed, not so far away from the center. That pink slip was hidden from the eyes of his parents, his sister or his boyfriend. His hand jiggled, perhaps just a little bit, perhaps a lot, but that piece of paper with that cute cross, made his eyes dilate.

Tomorrow returns and the cars will be honking and not Enya. Tomorrow, he’d have to deal with that little bit of paper, maybe. But today, in lotus position, he will not be able to rid himself of it.



