Stood up [by Mark]

I was expecting  a friend on a perfect summer day sitting outside at Gelateria on South Grand, and he never showed up. I wrote the following while waiting.

With Anandamayi Ma at Gelateria

After meditating way past midnight

I went to my mat and fell asleep

And soon in a dream

Sri Anandamayi Ma and I are having a  tête-à-tête

She looks mid-twenties

She is wearing a tie-dye t-shirt

And is sitting across from me

Outside at Gelateria

The curious passers-by

Might assume she is a medical student

Taking a break from her books

That would account for the light emanating from her

She’s wearing a faint smile

And I’m a little nervous

She obviously knows this too

And tries to put me at ease

“You know you strike me

As a little confused

[I’m thinking: Her Bengali-accented

English is pretty good]

There are very few things

You need to remember…

If you all you do is exert effort

To remember each minute

Then you’ll make progress

You’ll see progress

Others will see progress too…

Now isn’t that a happy thought?

So, Shimmelevsky, I tell you

There’s nothing new

In what I have to say to you

Just a few applications

You are not your body

You are not your mind

You are not your library

You are not your publications

You are not your fan club

You are not your home

You are not your sporty little Fiat

You are not your small portfolio

[How did she know

About those meager–

And dwindling–

Investments?]

You are not your curriculum vitae

Remember how you tell your students

‘You are not your GPA’?

You must practice what you preach

You are not your Twitter followers

You are not your awards from the university

You certainly are not your social networks

You are not your community service hours

You are not those thousand thoughts

You believe you are

You are not those same hundred stories

You play over and over in your mind

You are not your U.S. passport

You are not  your professor identity

You are not what people say you are

You are not what people say you are not

You are not your green eyes

That have gotten you into trouble

You are not that half-smile

That seems to seduce a certain kind of personality

You are not who you think you are

You are not all that sitcom conditioning

You are not all those layers of academic indoctrination

You are not all that middle-class māyā …”

So I blurt out:

“But Srimatiji

Tell me then–

Who am I really?”

She smiles at me so beautifully

And I feel her eyes penetrating through all my layers

And she is seeing and loving me in all of that

And she begins to speak

And then I wake up

Immersed in samsara

Slowly come to sitting

And begin meditating