The Fling

84

"Now that you're all in a comfortable position, I'm going to turn down the lights," Raj, our instructor for the thirty minute guided meditation said in the characteristically soothing voice people in his profession had.

Abigail and I were sitting cross-legged next to each other in the small room which held approximately a dozen other people. The shades had been drawn so the afternoon sun barely filtered through the windows, and gentle music, which I recognized as a sitar, was playing from the overhead speakers. This was our final class of the getaway, though tomorrow we both had foot and hand massages scheduled an hour prior to check-out.

"Today is about letting go," Raj continued. "All of us carry mental baggage that we struggle to set down and walk away from. Sometimes it's because we connect these things to people we love, so discarding that piece feels like you're losing part of the person. More often, the weight we carry is linked to guilt. When you can't fall asleep at night, it's not the good things you've done or happy memories that float through your brain; it's usually situations or actions that you regret. It's vital to our well-being that we learn to release this negativity and forgive ourselves."

Clearly this was a topic people were drawn to since this was the second class we'd attended this week that included the theme of self-forgiveness. I got why it was important, and I'd regularly used meditation to try to work through my emotional baggage in the past. Today, however, I was having trouble achieving focus. On top of this, my knees hurt from yesterday's workout, and I kept having to reposition my legs.

"Please close your eyes and try select one thing that you've done that you want to move on from. It can be words you wish you could un-say, or perhaps you made a bad choice you'd undo if you could."

Zeroing in on one specific thing was difficult. I felt deep guilt about canceling my tour, and I frequently thought about all the fans I disappointed, but rationally I knew it was the right decision, so I did not regret it. I sometimes felt bad about moving so far away from Toronto. I used to see my family a lot more, and I missed them, but again, I didn't really regret buying a house in Los Angeles. As I tried to think of something, I opened my eyes and looked over at Abigail. Her face was contorted in a pained expression, which told me she'd definitely found her thing to focus on. As I watched her, she brought her right hand from where it had been resting on her thigh and began touching her ring finger, almost as if she was twisting an imaginary piece of jewelry. Last year she did this frequently, and it's what made me question whether she was married, but over the course of our relationship, she stopped fidgeting this way. Why was she doing it now? Was whatever she was focusing on related to her marriage? Maybe that was a good thing, because it meant it wasn't about me.

"As you recall this event in your life, try to remember why you took the path you did. Things we regret don't happen in a vacuum and were usually triggered by other things," Raj explained. "Visualize what led up to that incident and consider what choices you had. You may have made what you felt in the moment was the best choice. Conversely, other options may be more clear to you now. That's okay. We are human and we don't always walk down the road we should. What I want you to think about is the why...why you did what you did or said what you said. Often, in order to let go, we have to fully understand our motives."

The room was silent, though I did hear a choked sob from one participant behind me. This type of exercise could be gut-wrenching, and I felt empathy for them about whatever demon they were dragging up. I looked at my girlfriend again and saw tears on her cheeks. I wanted to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, but if she was absorbed in this exercise, that was a bad idea. I scooted a tiny bit closer so that she'd know I was there for her if she needed me.

Shit. I was wasting this entire class by refusing to look inward. I took a deep breath and tried to start over. Recently, I'd jumped to the ugliest conclusion regarding Abigail and Bert hooking up, and I definitely regretted that because it hurt her. I did what Raj directed and thought about why I'd done it. Reagan said it happened and even showed me that photo, so it really wasn't crazy for my mind to go in the direction it did. I could have chosen a better option when confronting Abigail, though. The ideal path to take would have been asking her for her side of the story before assuming the worst.

At least ten minutes passed and I worried that I'd rushed the process a little, or maybe I wasn't giving it ample reflection. Glancing around the room, the rest of the class appeared to be deep in thought. I stretched my legs in front of me before returning to my original position.

Raj finally spoke again, "Now that you have examined what happened, I want you to say in your head, 'When, please insert your situation, occurred, I chose to, insert what you did, when I could have done, insert that alternative, instead.' Now this is the big part. I want all of you to say out loud, 'I am only human and I will make mistakes. I am going to learn from what I did, and then I am letting it go.'," he said, pausing so we could repeat his words. He made us chant this five more times, asking us to speak with more conviction as we progressed. Then he gave a new instruction, "Cup your hands in front of you and imagine you are holding a dove. This bird carries the guilt and regret that you've been holding on to."

I was a fan of meditation, but when things went in a direction like this, I had to fight rolling my eyes. They were closed again, so even if I did it, at least no one would know.

"Lift your hands and set the dove free!" Raj encouraged us.

I peeked and saw everyone doing this, so I reluctantly did it, too. Maybe if I'd been in a better frame of mind, this exercise would be cathartic instead of borderline ridiculous.

"One last thing, my friends. If the bird you just released flies back to you later, that could be a sign that you need to seek forgiveness from someone other than yourself. It's never too late to apologize for something you've said or done, and you might be surprised to learn that the other person involved let go of this soon after it happened. Perhaps it is something you need to share with someone, and the guilt comes from holding this thing inside. It can be healing to come clean. If your regret isn't tied to another human and an apology or admission isn't in order, then repeat this exercise and keep trying to set the dove free. One day you might find that it has flown away forever."

We had five minutes of breathwork before we were dismissed, and everyone filed out of the classroom in silence, which was unusual. Abigail and I didn't speak until we got back to our room, though she did take my hand in hers as we made our way down the corridors.

"That was interesting," I remarked after closing the door. I then reopened it and looked down the hall.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure our doves weren't out there waiting to come in," I joked.

"You're hilarious. I'm a skeptic by nature, but that class was a profound experience for me. Raj gave me a lot to think about."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I agree that letting go is really important, but the bird thing was a little cheesy."

"You were restless throughout the class, so I sensed it wasn't working for you. That's fine, but please don't mock the process since it helped me and other people."

I nodded solemnly. "You're right. It's shitty of me. I couldn't focus at all during the meditation, but that is on me and I shouldn't blame Raj and his methods." I approached her, wrapping my arms around her body and pulling her close. "When I did think of something I regretted, the thing that came to mind was accusing you of hooking up with Bert. I know I apologized before, but I want to do it again. I'm very sorry I didn't trust you."

She rested her head on my chest and moments later, her body heaved with sobs.

"Honey, please don't cry," I urged.

"I-I'm just a bit overwhelmed by my regret."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Abigail shook her head. "I'm still processing. Give me time."