Practicing Mindfulnessment at the Ashtray
by Eddie Moretti
Warning: This blog contains strong language, so if you got some kind of a problem with that, I don't know, maybe prepare yourself mentally right now, and don't say I didn't warn you.
So, here’s the thing. I was hanging out with my buddy George Wisniewski down at Benny’s Ashtray Lounge, and he’s flapping his yap all about his suddenly magical and wonderful life, all because, as you might have guessed if you know Georgie, turns out he signed up for another one of those self-help, bullshit, touchy-feely seminars.
I’ve tried to tell him that all those knuckle-heads do is talk super-happy, common sense crap mixed with nonsense, until you convince yourself everything is delightful, mostly because you don’t want to admit you wasted your money on some real garbage.
Anyways, so I’m mocking his ass for throwing his money into the trash, and he gets all up in my face, proving my point that all that spiritual stuff didn’t change him, and so I’m like, oh, not feeling so magical and wonderful right now, huh?!
I insist anyone can make up shit about crap like mindfulnessment, and I suggest I can write a spiritual blog right here and now, and he will see how goddamn easy it is. He starts bragging to everyone else in the bar, how I’m too scared to really do such a thing like explore the vast discomfort of sitting alone with my thoughts, babbling some shit about freeing people from pain and suffering, all due to, you know, attachment to material greed.
So, we make a bet. If I can pull it off – and the only way to know for sure, is he would have to feel a warm glow of peace and love for everyone and all that crap – then he would pay for all my drinks for the next six months! And, if I fail, I would have to lick all the salt off his Ford Escort, and you know he’s been driving that shitbox around the city all winter long.
Before I can even think twice about it, I’m sitting down with a stack of Benny’s golf outing coasters from 1993 and my trusty golf pencil, and I start writing…
Mindfulnessment in 3 Easy Steps
1) Shut the fuck up
That’s right. How are you going to tap into your brain space if you keep yapping away? You’re talking, but you’re not thinking one bit. So, just shut it. Close the mouth.
And get away from all the other big mouths. Just find a quiet spot in your house, like the kind of space where you go to smoke or watch porn. Don’t act all high and mighty. Everyone with a basement has stairs that hide away some small space, perfect for getting into your head space. It’ll force you to shut out all that fucking noise.
2) Sit with your shit
Look, we all have to deal with nonsense all day long, like the asshole on Ashland that slows down at the green light, just in case it changes soon. What’s with that kind of bullshit, anyway? Or, coworkers. Don’t get me started on coworkers who insist on recapping the whole fifth season of Love Is Blind over and over again, like you haven’t already fucking heard it already.
However, if you think about it, everyone holds the magical power to annoy, including you. That’s right. You’re a pain in the ass. Just like me. Even though I don’t know you, I can say with complete confidence that I know it to be true, because people suck. We all do. So, get over it.
This is the work, as they say. You sit with your thoughts. You pay attention to your thoughts, no matter how miserable or disgusting. Sit with your brain, because it’s your brain. It ain’t going nowhere.
3) Explore the misery
Now that you’re really paying attention to the madness inside you, hold those thoughts. Own them. You can’t deny it, now that you’ve heard it. So, it’s time to get curious...
It’s at this point that I see Georgie boy is trying to read all the coasters. Not only that, but this asshole is already five slices into the sausage pizza I ordered – for myself – I ain’t said nothing about sharing. So, I’m calling him a dipshit, and he doesn’t care because he’s challenging me, calling this whole bet a setup, that I must’ve gone out and read a bunch of books ahead of time.
I get right back in his face, because it’s obvious he thinks I’m too dumb to understand the word mindfulnessment. I’m like, hey dick-socket, the word is basically “full of mind” – and it’s clear you have to know your mind and pay attention to your thoughts, so I’m not a fucking idiot or a cheat.
In fact, his accusation proves my point that anyone can write this bullshit. Now, I’m looking right in his ugly face, and I start paying attention to all the hateful thoughts I’m experiencing. For example, what would it be like to drive this golf pencil into his skull? Or, what if I wrapped my fingers into the fist-pounding position and sock him right in the eye? Wouldn’t that feel great? It sure would.
So, I do it. I punch him. He must’ve had the same idea, because he punches me right back. Then I really start in with the pounding, and he’s responding accordingly. I can’t really blame him. I would do the same. In fact I am. And I start to see myself. Really see myself.
The next thing I know, he has a washboard in his hands, and he’s whacking me with it. Again, I’m aware of my thoughts like never before, and I’m thinking, I don’t remember ever seeing a fucking washboard in this place. Did he bring it with him? Was he the one that planned ahead?
After a few more minutes of just kicking the shit out of each other, we slid down the side of the bar, huffing and puffing. And, I can’t honestly feel anything at this point. I’m aware of myself, but my body is in shock, and all I feel is numb.
So, I turn to look at Georgie, and all I can do is give him one big smile. I don’t know why, but I can’t help myself. Then he smiles back, and he says, “aw, I love you Eddie!”
I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty satisfied from this process, and my mind is super focused. It feels good, so I guess mindfulnessment may have some benefits after all. You can even experience the benefits yourself. Come on down to Benny’s Ashtray Lounge on Saturday, and drink with me for free.
Because it’s all going on George’s tab.