It happened before, with Gil (Fronsdal), and with Ajahn Metta when she visited, and now this morning with James Baraz, during his Awakening to Joy workshop at IMC. Every time, I am 'subjected' to a guided meditation, discontent erupts inside. From being intruded upon, in the midst of very private process. All I want, is to be with breath, and feelings, and sensations, and whatever else presents itself. What I can't be with, are instructions telling me what to think of, or visualize. The irony of this morning workshop did not get lost on me. The more James tried to lead us down the path of joy, the more pissed off I got. I almost left mid course, but decided to stick it out, because of my trust in the teacher, and just as equally, my distrust in the mind's capacity to resist what could be good.
As it turns out, I did learn quite a bit about joy, from James. More importantly, I got in touch with another form of clinging, regarding MY idea of what sitting meditation is supposed to be. Somewhere along the way, I gathered that meditation was another thing to call MINE. Thanks to James' innocent intrusion this morning, I am not so sure anymore, and I wonder, whose meditation is it anyway?