“Basically Greg, you drink to unwind. Does that worry you?” asked Zen Master Burt. Well, it didn’t until now.
Burt was someone I knew long ago whose burning ambition was to smoke his way through Australia’s entire marijuana crop. We eventually lost contact because we moved in different circles; I worked and Burt didn’t.
By the way, Burt isn’t his real name, because he avoids fame… and underarm deodorant, toothpaste, and haircuts. Plus he also had an extreme reluctance to provide any kind of evidence to prove his Zen Master credentials.
Honestly, Burts’ unexpected reappearance in my life was about as welcome as the sudden return of a dodgy curry.
Yet the person in front of me now looked like the old Burt, but with much clearer eyes, more grey hair and a lot less drool. Even better, he wasn’t asking me for food or money.
Apparently some time ago, Burt realised that he was a bit of a mess, so he kicked his bong into the bin and sought professional help; possibly a team of doctors working around the clock for a couple of months.
A counsellor taught him to meditate and he embraced it with the same sort of enthusiasm that he’d employed with drug abuse. Long story short, meditation saved Burts’ life and now he was using it to help others, whether they wanted him to or not.
Anyway, ‘alleged’ Zen Master Burt convinced me to try meditation, so I did. But upon opening my eyes I saw him staring at me with some concern, “Man,” he muttered, “that was like watching a kettle boil!”
Apparently I’ve got a long way to go.
Maybe I’ll find inner peace, maybe I won’t, but on the bright side, trying won’t do me any harm, so I’ll drink to that!