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Out Of It.


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.
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