Move Over, Maharishi

For twenty-nine days I had been waiting for February to be over--and it finally was. But somehow, I wasn't feeling much better. I was fed up with Harvard, fed up with anality and fed up with the male-dominated economic superstructure that, according to all the anal Harvard students in my classes, dominated modern society.

Luckily, I was not alone in my winter of discontent. My roommate was feeling the same way. "Wouldn't it be great," she said, "If you could simply turn off all of this stuff and get out of your brain for a while?" I snorted and turned to my latest copy of the Crimson.

And there, in huge, block letters, was the solution all my problems, my key to understanding.

"LEARN TO MEDITATE: FOUR MEDIATION INTENSIVES."

The ad jumped off the page and into my inner conscience. In the middle of the page was a computer-drawn picture of Buddha, floating in an utterly tranquil, vaguely Eastern-looking landscape. My soul fluttered with excitement as I gazed at the sketchily rendered mountains, caves and lakes swimming around the serenely smiling Buddha. "Enlightenment...nirvana...soul mates ...concentration and meditation," the ad guaranteed. I was sure that here, in these totally "FREE" Boston Meditation Society sessions, was the remedy to my malaise.

My roommate was a excited about this as I was. One Saturday afternoon, we schlepped over to the Inn at Harvard, where these exercises in growth were to be held. As we entered the hotel, we had very little idea what to expect. Robed monks with shaved heads? Lost hippies in beads and ethnic clothing? Shirley Maclaine?

What we resembled none of these. Instead, we beheld two clean-cut yuppies in pin-striped suits two introduced themselves as Larry and Steve. They ushered us into the neat, pastel-saturated meeting room and offered us a beverage of our choice. The drinks were on a table set with a tablecloth, doilies and long-stemmed water glasses, the chairs were lined up in neat little rows.

All of this would have completely normal if we were attending a real estate seminar or a Harvard Club function. But a mediation session? My roommate and I exchanged glances and sat down.

This is not what I expected, I thought as I looked around. Shouldn't we be sitting in a circle with our legs folded? Where's the incense? Why are Larry and Steve dressed like stockbrokers, and shouldn't they have more glamorous names? I knew I looked puzzled. Larry must have noticed it too, because I soon saw him coming toward me from the corner of my eye.

"So," he said, casually sticking his hands in his pockets," How'd you hear about us?"

"The Crimson," I said, smiling.

"Oh. Did you see the Eastern ad or the Western One?"

I looked even more puzzled.

"We had two different ads..."

"The Eastern one," I said slowly, the smiling computer Buddha floating through my mind. "The one with the Buddha."

"Oh yeah. We're tried both types of ads, an Eastern and a Western. We're testing out different marketing strategies."

I snapped to attention, my fantasy of the hazy Eastern landscape shattering into a million cosmic pieces. Marketing strategies?

Eventually, after about six people had settled down in our meeting room, the Boston Meditation Society began their "Meditation Intensive". Larry, a genial-looking, balding guy, did the first part of the talk. He explained that he and Steve--a younger, tanner, track-star type--are computer analysts in New York who lead perfectly average lives expect for the fact that they are serious students of meditation. These sessions, they said, were the result of their desire to share their experiences and discoveries with a larger group.

Their aim is to prove that meditation is not an activity reserved for "flakes." In essence, it is just a way to cope with the hassles of today's world. They themselves are your average Manhattan professionals: they work out, listen to classical music and drink coffee (to keep them from falling asleep while meditation in morning). Meditation gets them through their subway commutes to work. They are people like us.

And, Steve added, we are all alike because the fact that we're here today means that we mediated in a past life.

Quickly, Steve and Larry explained the basics of several meditation traditions, among them the Southern Buddhist tradition, which focuses on breathing patterns. Their own method, they said, is a hybrid of several traditions. But, they said, the goal of any sort of meditation is to lose yourself, to become so detached from your everyday existence that your thoughts simply drift through your head without your becoming preoccupied by them. Eventually, they explained, you stop "thinking" all together.

Perfect, I thought, Now was the time to try.

Our first meditation experience was supposed to last only ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. The room was very still, but was flooded by the loud New Age music Steve and Larry played on their portable Discman. I tried very hard to "lose myself," in the music (and in my own inner being), but I was distracted by the sight of a bunch of people perched on conference room chairs trying to be serene. We were told to focus on an object in the room, to put all our attention on that thing and not waver. But my object of attention, a fragment of the pattern in the carpet, just did not fixate my soul. I envied Larry, who, sitting in a lotus position on top of his chair, looked like the Dalai Lama in a dark blue suit. Maybe I just didn't have what it takes.

Larry and Steve, however, were pleased by our session, and informed us that our collective meditation had "cleared out the room. "I'm not sure exactly what they meant by that, but it seemed very cosmic.

After another coffee break (don't want to fall asleep during an inner journey), we had another try at mediation. For this session I sat on the floor rather than in my chair, and had more success. Despite their suits and their Discman, Steve and Larry did seem to be onto something.

Their final wrap-up put me off, however. When they started talking about their teacher, a State University of New York English professor-turned spiritual leader, I got really suspicious. I wanted to ask them exactly why they felt it necessary to drive up to Boston to educate the masses, what made them the Boston Meditation Society, and why they were offering these sessions, which they said they planned to continue to hold every week indefinitely, for free.

But I didn't ask. I didn't want to upset the order of the cosmos.