There was an
awkward moment at tonight’s meditation class, when a student fell asleep.
We were halfway
through a twenty-minute guided meditation when the snoring began. It was only
vaguely discernable at first; so much so that initially, it could have gone
either way; a small sound or a slightly louder instruction from the teacher might have
tipped the balance back from unconsciousness to relaxed concentration. In an
alternate dimension, in an identical school hall in a parallel Garden City, this probably happened - but not in the Letchworth of our Universe. Seconds later,
the breathing became more obstructed and there was no turning back;
the person whose identity was protected from everyone except the teacher, because
we had our eyes shut, had tiptoed up the wooden stairs to Bedfordshire (in
Herts) to noddy-bye-bye land. What I’m saying is “They'd fallen sleep”.
Not that there was
anything to be ashamed of. There’s no better sign of being relaxed. But as the
minutes ticked by with no suggestion of the snoring relenting, my attention
kept being drawn from what I was doing to worrying what would happen if they
didn’t wake up before we finished. There aren’t many situations
more embarrassing than being roused from your slumber by a group of strangers
leaning over you (speaking from experience).
I can’t have been
the only one thinking this. We were all in the same boat: a class of
nineteen students and their teacher, collectively willing the other pupil to
wake up. Thankfully it happened, with seconds to spare. As the teacher talked
us through the end of our practice, the snoring faded blissfully. It was a
victory for collective consciousness; either that, or for the teacher’s raised
tone. Either way, a tricky situation was averted. Thank Buddha for that.