Currently I’m in Carbondale, Colorado, at a place called True Nature Healing Arts. If you’ve ever been to a new age bookstore, organic smoothie bar, or upscale yoga center, this place is all of those things combined then multiplied by the third chakra. For sale, there are crystals of every color, mala beads, statues of deities–incense, of course–and t-shirts made from hemp fiber (half off). I’m making jokes because it’s one big, new-age/spiritual stereotype, but this is honestly the most warm, beautiful, and professional place of this type I’ve ever been to. (And I’ve been to a few of them.) Because everything is “just so,” I’m assuming a Virgo was involved in putting it all together.

The event I’m attending here started last night, and we just wrapped up the morning session and are on lunch break. I ate organic lamb curry, am sipping hot matcha tea, and am about to reach for an apple inside my bag. I feel so healthy I can’t stand myself. Granted, my insides are in shock, but I fed them Mexican food last night, so they’ll get over it. We’ve got two more sessions to go before the day is over, so I’m trying to knock out some blogging before I have a spiritual experience and–I don’t know–forget how to cuss or put a damn sentence together. (Obviously that hasn’t happened yet.)

I read somewhere that often spiritual disciplines simply become other ways of beating ourselves up. Like, if you feel like a piece of shit because you’ve recently gone up a pant size and then you join a yoga class to de-stress and drop a few pounds, you’ll probably end up feeling even more like a piece of shit because now you’re fat and can’t do downward-facing dog as well as that hot guy in the corner. (You know–the one with the really tight, spiritual stretch pants.) Well, just now I heard a man talking about his personal flotation chamber, which is sort of like a bathtub filled with Himalayan sea salt that helps desensitize the body and quiet the mind (I think). Anyway, part of me is thinking, He has a fancy woo-woo thing. I wonder if that makes him a better person than I am. But now he’s talking about dowsing, like how you walk around with a forked stick and wait for it to fall wherever there’s water, oil, or gold, and it’s all I can do to not roll my eyes. So maybe I’m a better person than he is.

I just put in my headphones and turned on my music so I’ll stop comparing myself to a total stranger.

Because I dragged my feet getting in the lunch line, there weren’t any tables left where I could sit and eat–at least without asking if I could sit down with someone I don’t know. (I don’t know anyone here. Well, I did meet one lovely lady named Wing–as in, and a prayer–in line for the bathroom. I’m assuming our bladders are on the same schedule, since we’ve chatted more than once.) Anyway, sometimes I feel bold and friendly, and other times, I’m all, Fuck that–I can take care of myself. I don’t need you and your–your–table space. Well, I ended up eating outside, and it was cold as a well-digger’s ass. That part wasn’t so bad, but the wind almost blew my table over. It actually turned the giant umbrella above me inside out. At that point, I finished my food, came inside, and sat down in a lone chair by a meditation corner. Then a girl who had a table all to herself asked if I wanted to join her. My knee-jerk reaction was to say, “No, thank you, I don’t need your charity,” but instead I paused and said, “Yes, yes I would.”

So that’s where I am now–across from Emily and her table. I’m trying not to stare, but I’m also trying to stare. You know how it’s fun to people watch. Well, so far I’ve noticed that Emily has a wedding ring, likes frothy tea or coffee, and has a laptop with a bigger screen than mine. She has a notebook beside her in which she’s drawn several hearts. Or someone has. I really (really) want to ask her what she’s working on just two feet away from me, but if she asked me the same question, I’d either have to lie or say, “Oh, just writing–about you–on the internet.” Jokes aside, I guess I could say, “Being grateful for an act of kindness I received today.”

Gotta go back to class.

Now it’s dinner time, and I’m eating at a restaurant called The Goat. I just had a mushroom and swiss burger that was delicious, and I think it had bacon on it. I haven’t blogged about it before, but I’m really not a bacon eater because I used to think pork was sin. I don’t think it’s a sin anymore, but sometimes it bothers my stomach, so I rarely eat it on purpose. When I do eat it, I usually freak out, like, What if I have the runs later? Still, what do yo do? In my case, I just ordered “warm chocolate cake” and coffee and tried to forget about it. Either way, what’s done is done. Things show up–fears, desires, experiences–then disappear, just like this dessert is about to.

I’m intentionally not saying much about the workshop I’m attending this weekend. For one, it’s pretty heavy stuff (my brain is tired and still digesting). At this point, I don’t think I could easily distill it down into blog form, make it understandable, and do it justice. For another, it feels personal. Maybe sacred is a better word. There’s a story about a journalist who waited years for a one-on-one interview with Padre Pio, the saint. When the big day arrived, he attended a group mass with Padre Pio, then canceled the interview. When asked why, he said, “I realized that man has the power to change my life, and I’m not ready for that to happen.” So that’s part of why I’m not running to the internet with a book report of what I’m learning. I want to share, of course, but this feels like it could be a game changer, so it’s something I want to treat with respect.

All that being said, I will say that one of the ideas I’ve been presented with this weekend is that nothing–no object–belongs to me. Having sold most of everything I used to “own,” I’m open to this way of thinking. But here’s the kicker–objects not only include physical items like my knickknacks and jewelry, but also include my body, thoughts, emotions, and experiences. This is because all these things were either given to me or simply appeared–only to disappear, of course. They aren’t permanent or things I can hold on to. The benefit to seeing all these things as borrowed is that I suffer less when something breaks, gets sick, or changes in some way. In short, I’m more free.

As I see it, another benefit to this way of thinking is that I don’t have to compare so much. After all, if everything I have is borrowed, then everything everyone else has is borrowed too. I can feel insecure that some guy has had an experience I haven’t, but that experience isn’t really his, especially once it’s over. This fact, I think, levels the playing field and makes us more alike. More than being our comparisons, our tight pants, or the bacon we accidentally ate, we’re really just all people looking for a place to sit. What’s more, no object, thing, or experience can add or subtract from our inherent value. Thankfully, our essence, our true nature, actually is ours, and I like to think it’s been there all along, just waiting for us to pull up a chair and get curious about it.