I cheerfully headed off to a free "meditation workshop" after work, not knowing exactly what to expect but looking forward to the chance to meditate in a group setting, learn a thing or two, and potentially meet an interesting group of people.
The group was certainly eclectic, and the attendees appeared friendly and inquisitive. I walked in early, having hustled there because of the cold weather, and was welcomed warmly into a spacious room with an ample collection of chairs designed specifically for meditation. Arriving early meant I had a few extra moments to pause and collect my thoughts before the meditation was to begin. I noted the ample sizing of the space rented out by the organization, the Art of Living Foundation (AoL), and its prime location on fifth avenue in midtown. What did they pay to rent the space, I wondered? And the sessions, offered twice weekly, were free! Where did this organization receive its funding?
My wandering mind stopped speculating and attended to one of the seats in the circle, where the teacher had taken her place once all the other seats were filled. She was pretty and never stopped smiling--she seemed to radiate joy, but was there something eerie about this excess? At the moment I was touched--now I'm closer to disgusted.
You see, the introduction, meditation exercise, and concluding sentiments that followed seemed on the surface a fantastic, high-quality introduction to the art and spirit of meditation, just as the reviewers on MeetUp had suggested it would be. (The session receives very positive reviews, a great number of them.) Yet there were aspects to the session that bothered me on an intuitive level; it wasn't until afterward that I understood why.
There was, for instance, the moment in the guided meditation session when the teacher said in her soothing, quiet voice "You are peace and joy." (Are we not, along with peace and joy, one with everything else, too, not only the "high" or positive sentiments? Talk of "peace and joy" alone connotes something messianic and instills in the listener a false sense of expectation and delight at one's own capacity and potential to exist on a quite lofty plane. Yet practitioners of Zen Buddhism, for instance, would likely say to forget the lofty plane and be wherever you are, accept wherever you are, and not strive for enlightenment or a lofty experience.)
To avoid further rambling, I'll simply say that all along I sensed a dark something underlying this exceedingly pleasant meditation session. And the volunteers! I almost forgot how there were "volunteers" present--at least three of them--and how they possessed a saintlike devotion to this practice and this place. Something was amiss, but what? If they were volunteering and if the whole thing were free, shouldn't I be relieved of any paranoid ideas, secure in the understanding that no one was profiting from this in any way? But alas, it wasn't so.
The organization offers free sessions twice weekly, sure, but after being exposed to the sometimes relaxing, enchanting, even blissful sensation of meditating, attendees are vulnerable to AoL's subtle solicitations to return for another visit (free, of course). At the end of each session they pass out evaluation forms for the session, and you have the option of providing your contact information in case of interest in further participation. (By this point they have already informed you of several longer classes being offered; these, of course, carry a price tag.)
Oy. When I came home after that session, I still hadn't put my finger on what exactly was bothering me, what exactly had been wrong with that place, but I felt physically sick and even dissolved into a short bout of tears before it occurred to me to open up google and do some research. A few websites told me all I need to know: the Art of Life Foundation is a business, not a nonprofit, and they function like a cult. There's a hierarchy with god-like "gurus" at the top and tiers of followers below, there's an intelligent strategy behind the seemingly benign "free meditation workshop," likely designed to recruit and reel in, and there's something damn sketchy about the whole operation, which, I gather, is mammoth. As your involvement increases, it seems, so does your exposure to the idea of "enlightenment" and desire to obtain it, and your allegiance to the organization and the gurus at the top heightens as you slowly hand over your autonomy and lose your ability to think critically about the concepts and people involved.
Stay away, folks. This experience served as a reminder to remain firmly rooted in what experience has taught me to be true; to trust my intuition; and never to get so wrapped up in a search for an elusive spirituality that I neglect to use my head. Indeed this organization's modus operandi is insidious, the way it capitalizes on the undermining of ordinary thought processes in order to subvert your skepticism altogether. Way to pervert and profit from beautiful and wise teachings, Art of Life!
Not sure where to go from here (as far as my own spiritual journey is concerned). I find myself wanting to embrace Judaism, the religion into which I was born and with which I unhesitatingly identify today. Yet surely it's still possible also to learn from "Eastern" teachings by reading from primary texts, such as the Tao Te Ching, and to incorporate them into my daily life and my understanding of morality, wisdom, and life.
Something I've taken to do doing--and would recommend to anyone--is listening to the eloquent, simple, and profound Dharma talks posted online by the Zen Community of Oregon. My favorite ones are those given by Chozen Bays, whose training as a physician adds depth and intellectual credence to a subject that some might dismiss as illusory. I don't mean to say that she proves Zen with science--rather, that her robust background in both science and Zen Buddhism makes for very compelling listening. Her mellifluous voice is also a pleasure to listen to, making it easier to absorb the wisdom of her talks. I'd be hard-pressed to think of a wiser person to whom to turn for advice on the ultimate spiritual question of how to live.
