What is a chair, Algernon?

I rediscovered my sense of humor at lunch today, so thought I'd get back to a lighter form of blogging. I have told part of this story in a comment on GetUpGrrl but I will expand it here.

Feeling bad about life, I decided to take a meditation class with a friend. The room for the class felt more like a support group than meditation. Chairs were aligned in a neat circle with a slightly geeky man in a gray cardigan at its top. Algernon, I kid you not-that was his name, was our zen master for the evening. He wore wire rimmed glasses, had slightly unkempt hair, and was clothed in the afore-mentioned cardigan and a pair of balloon pants that would have looked perfect on the world's largest genie. He sat in typical zen style with his hands steepled at heart level and spoke in the excessively calming tones that define the zen genre.

I arrived late, as always. I had dressed in a conservative outfit - after all, the girls deserve some alone time and I had been at work prior to the class. However, as I walked in, Algernon's eyes missed my face, and, whatever he may have seen, never made it much above my heart level. I had expected men of true enlightenment to have overcome the male obsession with breasts, but Algernon immediately stopped speaking and gestured overly emphatically for me to join the group.

With a quick compliment to the girls on being especially cha cha in my blue sweater and a thank you to them for sparing me what otherwise would have been an embarrassing comment on my late arrival, I moved into an empty seat. Algernon eventually cleared his throat several times and restarted the class.

"My zen master once told me this story about the process of enlightenment," he said with determined gravity.

"He said a wise teacher once placed a glass of water in front of his students and asked them 'What is this?' The class offered several explanations. To each, the wise teacher replied, 'You are tied to names and concrete reality. For this I will give you 30 strikes with a stick.'

Algernon paused for us to acquire this bit of wisdom. My only thought was that if he hadn't clarified that the teacher was, supposedly, wise, I would have suggested a quick call to 9-1-1.

Our wise zen master continued when we had all nodded with false understanding. "My zen master asked me, 'Algernon, what is a chair?' "

I felt like I was watching Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon with my pseudo-intellectual friends again. Everyone in the room was nodding, pondering and looking enlightened. I still didn't understand the title.

Zen Master Algernon invited us to ponder that question during the evening's meditation exercise. The corners of my mouth curled slightly at the prospect of spending 40 minutes lost in a wave of furniture - short chairs, benches, dining room chairs, thrones - so much to ponder that I was certain to find the meaning of life within the spindly and/or plastic limbs.

We dutifully closed our eyes after assuming the necessary seated posture. Algernon informed us that he would be re-aligning our bodies to help us create the necessary space for our breath. I began my own mantra, "Men are rat bastards." Wait, no, that was what Cate suggested I repeat as my mantra today. Yesterday, I stuck with the tried and true peace. I refused to think about furniture. I had come for quiet of mind not quickness of laughter.

The meditation proceeded with my mind refusing to forget that I was not focusing on furniture. A sea of loveseats and bean bags mixed with the computer chairs and Lazy Boys. There was one strange moment when Algernon lost his way in an attempt to re-align my neck and ended up with a handful of hair and a muttered apology. (Understandable mistake, my neck is located in a very unusual place between my shoulders and head. You'd never think to look there.)

By the end of the 40 minutes, I had not achieved enlightenment, but I did understand the water bit when Algernon produced a glass of water and, repeating the question, "What is this?" proceeded to drink the water. He then imparted a bit of wisdom amidst the confusion. "All existence is form and function. We have only to unite the form with the function to find true contentment."

Hmm, I thought. After all the twists and turns in his convoluted logic, there was insight. Algernon ended the practice with a challenge to be aware of form and function in all parts of our lives and to let the moment teach us how to be happy.

I felt happy in that moment. I guess enlightenment doesn't have to come in the midst of meditation....I still don't get the chairs, but I'm thinking of redoing my living room in a colonial style when I change over the furniture.