|analytical Q||May-Aug 2000||Sept-Dec 2000||Contact||Discussion|
MEDITATING ON THE TUBE
Last night after a wonderful dinner and play, I ran to catch the last tube home. It was crowded with all kinds of people. I was already feeling ill by the time I got on.
My stomach was queasy - acidic, to be exact. I found a spot in the corner, almost under someone's armpit. The journey would take about 45 minutes, and I feared that I would not last the trip.
My forehead broke out in a cold sweat. I felt myself getting paler by the minute. Would somebody please let me sit down? I rushed towards an empty seat, only to be defeated by a young man who was faster than I. Everyone around me seemed to be asleep, drunk, or self-absorbed.
Deja vu. Almost six years ago, I escaped from a nasty situation in which my weird housemate had almost attacked my other housemate. I was feeling nauseous and sick. A kind woman asked me to sit next to her and started a conversation with me to distract myself from the queasiness. Once I got to the airport bathroom, I threw up.
Tonight, I could not afford to do this in a crowded train. So I decided to meditate. I took several deep breaths. I focussed on my breathing, as recommended by so many of my New Age books. One by one I counted my breaths against the tube stops. By the time I got off the train, my mind had overcome my body.
STONES IN HIS POCKET:
Duke of York's theater, St Martin's Lane
I had no idea what the play was about. But it was only one of few that I hadn't seen before.
Two actors only - playing a dozen different parts: young and old, female and male, English, Irish, American accents, sad and happy.
Fantastic talent. Two stories in one. Ireland. Community. Just superb!