My psychic powers are pretty much limited to knowing what I'm going to have for lunch, though sometimes I'm wrong about that.

I can't fly. I can't levitate. I can't read minds.

I'm not even close to being enlightened.

When I started practicing meditation, I had all kinds of ideas of what it would be, and what would happen, and who I would become.

At the very least, sitting on my cushion everyday was going to make me happy. Because meditation makes you happy, right?

Most of what I imagined wasn't true and I thought of myself as failure for a long time. I wasn't happy. I wasn't free of stress or anxiety.

I felt like a fake.

I was sitting on my cushion, Damnit! I was sitting on it every day.

I know how long I sat because I set a timer. It was a meditation timer, too, with chimes, and bells, and gongs, and stuff.

And I felt like my practice was strong and consistent. I felt like I was putting in the work. It wasn't until I experienced a string of life's normal disappointments and sadnesses that I learned what the practice is and what it's not.

I found that living my life is the real practice, showing up for the day to day stuff. This is Buddha's teaching in real time, in real life.

It's not herbal tea, or incense, or prayer beads, or trinkets.

It's not a studio filled with chicks in yoga pants.

It's not a guru's secret teaching. It's not a deity with a name I can't pronounce because I'm tragically suburban.

It's loneliness. It's hunger. It's the cramp in my leg. It's the sunshine on my face.

It's the broken heart, the empty space, and the headache from grinding my teeth. It's the full bladder while I'm stuck in traffic, again.

It's the happy, fun memories that sprinkle in amidst the pain of loss.

It's an ending. It's a beginning.

It's putting my dog to sleep.

It's adopting a puppy and watching him explore the world, wagging his tale, wagging everything. It's walking with him in the winter when it's too damn cold and in the summer when it's too damn hot.

It's a breath of spring.

The practice is an ex that you wish well, even though that hurts sometimes.

It's someone that you pine over, even though that someone doesn't know.

It's a bad habit that needs breaking.

It's new way of looking at things.

It's trading one cage for another and then another, only to realize I've been free all along.

It's hurting and realizing I'm not the only one.

It's happiness that circulates, and swirls, and fades.

It's misery that passes.

It's joy. It's peace. It's life and death.

It's regret.

It's making a commitment to myself, and some days breaking it, and feeling that.

It's cheap-ass socks pinching my toe inside my shoe.

It's the sound of a mountain stream and the sound of the ice in my glass.

It's being surprised by basic human kindness from the most unexpected of people.

It's presence, and noticing, and getting distracted, and noticing that.

It's starting again.

 

There's a tiny little gnome inside my head who's trying to bust his way out with a sledgehammer. I wish he'd stop, move on, and find something else to do. But he won't and it's my fault that he's here.

I drank too much vodka last night.

I don't often over medicate with alcohol, but when I do, I do it up right. I have to go and drum today, and I have to take the gnome and his pointy hat and his sledgehammer with me.

He will no doubt pound along with the rhythms that I play. He'll probably hang out all day long and laugh at the Tylenol I've taken. And he'll remind me over and over again that I did this to myself by trying to escape my feelings.

I'm not perfect. I am, however, the guy who wrote a well received essay on how to manage the pain of a breakup. That article helped me and a lot of other people. Sometimes though, I'm not so good at taking my own advice.

So, I have to carry the gnome with me today. Had I skipped the vodka, I would have just carried some anxiety and maybe some depression. Now, I carry anxiety, some depression, the gnome, and regret.

I remember in The Empire Strikes Back when Yoda was training Luke on Dagobah and Luke asked what was in that dark, ominous cave that Yoda was telling him to enter.

“Only what you take with you,” said Yoda. Of course, Luke took his weapons even after Yoda told him he wouldn't need them. Luke was sometimes a crappy student.

I think most of life is like that. We only really have to deal with what we carry with us. I could've carried my anxiety with me. I could've carried it like a cold or a virus, some joint pain, or a heavy bag of books and made it through my day. Maybe I would have carried some loneliness or depression or the missing of someone gone from my life and living so far away. Maybe not.

Maybe the feelings of last night would've passed and I'd be distracted by something else today or even feeling just fine. But, I don't know. I have to carry the headache and whatever else is the result of making a poor choice when dealing with some very uncomfortable feelings.

I could've have just been present and accepted the way I felt, knowing that those feelings would eventually morph and change, or even move on leaving room for other experiences.

Someone once said to me, “There's no could've or should've or would've–only what is. Move on from here.”

That's good advice. Me and the gnome are going to pack the drums now. And we're going to leave the vodka in the freezer.

 

I like space adventures, and super heroes, and relationships that last forever. You know, things that aren't real.

When I was a kid, Spiderman was my favorite super hero. But as I've gotten older, I'm really much more of a Batman fan.

Don't get me wrong. I still like Spiderman.

He's bitten by a radioactive spider, gets some pretty cool super powers, and then kisses Kirsten Dunst upside down.

Please let me know where I can sign up.

I will say that I was never much of a Superman fan. In fact, I think he's kind of a punk. He's the cool and sexy new guy in town, the one all of the chicks dig. If would have created him, I would've given him an exotic accent just to complete his douche baggy image and perfect abs.

He's got all kinds of superpowers on Earth which he wouldn't have had back on Krypton. There, he would have been just another dude, probably taking antidepressants and watching internet porn.

Thor is a god.

Well, that's not really fair is it?

I don't want to go to any parties where that guy is hanging out. He's just going to be showing off his big hammer and stealing all of the ladies' attention.

I don't need that kind of competition.

Batman is my favorite because he really doesn't have any superpowers. He's a dude who uses his own resources and determination to improve himself and the world around him.

We can't all be Superman, or Spiderman, or Thor. We don't all get the advantage of genetic supremacy or super powers.

But we can be a little bit more like Batman.

We can use our skills, talents, and resources to the best of our ability. And maybe make the world a better place, even if it's in small ways.

If that seems like too much, we can always begin with not judging people and minding our own business.

Also, you can get your uniform at Walmart.