It was a small voice piping up near the back row: “Are you enlightened?”

They were 66 squirmy but attentive 5th graders sitting in the main shrine room on cushions that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. The gong rang once, twice, and the group quieted down to silence.

From my position at the back of the room, I could watch them watching each other and watching the teacher, Gail Flynn of the Trident Booksellers and Cafe. Upon receiving meditation instruction, they each settled into a form that looked reminiscent of a meditation posture. What was striking to me mostly was the power of their silence - that 66 10 year olds could quiet down together and begin to question what it might be like to discern their thoughts, questioning what it means to open your heart.

They were curious - about the room, about the Buddha, about the shrine and the water and how to do walking meditation, about the banners on the wall, and about why we keep our eyes open when we sit. Gail rang the gong again and asked them to listen, to listen until they couldn’t hear anything anymore, saying: “Where does the sound go?”. Some of them giggled in response, and another one said: “nowhere, it just goes away.” The same question was asked about anger: “When you are angry at your friend, where does your anger go to?” “We forget about it” was one response, another was: “We feel bad about it so we let it go.” I’m telling you, these kids were insightful.

This was a group of three 5th grade classes - the school called us to see if we could host their students for an hour’s talk and meditation instruction. This wouldn’t have happened 10 years ago! And it was only one of 8 phone calls in a week requesting us to teach meditation to children of all ages. It is apparent that meditation has become a house-hold word, that people have heard of it, and that they know meditation has incredible benefits. Compassion was a word these children had heard of. To be in that room with them was inspiring, moving, and full of lungta. It seemed like the Great Eastern Sun was shining very, very brightly, even though it was a cloudy day.

Sitting with Joyful Disappointment, by guest writer Jim Infantino

Recently, one of the bigger mysteries of my life was solved. Not only solved, but tied up neatly, with a big fat happy ending. All of my fears about that situation were, though far from baseless, ultimately not realized. I should be overjoyed, and I am. However, it is also true that part of me feels let down, and I find that fascinating.

The story goes like this: In my teenage years, I had a friend, who was a girl - not really a girlfriend, but someone that I spent tons of time talking to. She seemed to really get me, and I felt like I really got her, and we drank copious quantities of coffee in diners and cafes between classes, and after school all over lower Manhattan. She was a dancer, and very pretty and had a sharp perception that cut through all my bullshit. I was enthralled. Gradually, I began to notice that her life had taken a darker turn. She had quit dancing, started smoking more, stopped eating. She came to school less and less, she cut her hair short, died it black, spent nights out with her older aunt in punk clubs, all the time getting thinner and thinner. I was scared for her. I tried to talk to her, tried to help in some way, but the forces in her life moving her in this direction were beyond me. Our talks became more and more rare, her depression seemed to deepen daily. Then she stopped coming to school at all. Her phone number was disconnected. I asked around about her, but no one knew anything. I stopped by her house, walked around her neighborhood repeatedly, but there was just no sign of my friend anywhere.

Months went by. As I began to accept that my friend was gone, and since I had no further information, I began to make up stories about why she was gone. Read the rest of this entry »