Once in a while, I’ll try to re-visit something I’ve failed at in the past, especially if it’s something that’s supposed to be good for me. Most recently, that something was meditation. Having trained as a barista for the Kadampa Meditation Center café in Hong Kong a few years ago, imagine my pleasant surprise when I learned of a KMC right here in Manhattan. According to the internets, Kadampa is a tradition that encourages people to apply Buddha’s teachings using a practical method, channeling daily activities into a path of enlightenment. Sounds pretty simple, right? But akin to mastering a sport, understanding the theory behind how something should work doesn’t automatically bequeath unto you the skills to execute that play. Those assignments for religion class at Harvard Divinity School, where I deconstructed the esoteric texts of Vimalakirti, analyzed purposeful cultivation of passion, and mastered the “mastery of the non-self”… did squat for my meditation skills. Coming from a family of pretty intense Buddhists – my aunts have been profiled by Tzu Chi, and a distinct childhood memory I recall from visiting Taiwan is being slapped on the hand by a bald woman for not finishing a banana the monastery cafeteria had served for lunch – I am regularly urged by my parents to try it out, mostly because they are worried about me losing my mind (NB: that may or may not have already happened).

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