Toronto Layover

I’m sitting in Toronto City Airport listening to Eddie Vedder’s song “Society” on youtube. It’s a song that was featured in the movie, “Into the Wild.”  These are a few of the lyrics:

It’s a mystery to me | We have a greed with which we have agreed | You think you have to want more than you need | Until you have it all you won’t be free.

I’m not a Pearl Jam fan at all, but I’m listening to this song because the person who sat next to me on the airplane recommended it.  I rarely speak to the people I’m forced to be in close contact with over the course of a flight, but I noticed that my seatmate was reading a book called, “Buddhism with an Attitude.” This seemed a bit of an oxymoron, so I asked him if he liked the book.

We then proceeded to discuss meditation, which is something I’ve started practicing this past spring in an attempt to deal with the death throes of a PhD. Finishing my thesis and deciding what to do next with my life has been emotionally overwhelming, and practicing meditation with a friendly group of people has been an immense relief. I crave a calm mind, and I attempt to build a skillful mind, but most of the time what I have is a mind of madness.

I’ve discovered that I’m not alone in feeling like this. Lately I’ve been much more open about my anxiety – I’ve spoken about it to my fiancé, my friends, my mom, my boss, my coworkers, and now to a stranger on the airplane. What’s kind of amazing is how supportive people are, and I think it’s because so many people can relate to overwhelming anxiety. One of my coworkers, who always seemed a very relaxed and pulled together person, confessed to having frequent panic attacks and to carrying clonazepam on her at all times, just in case.

The story of my Porter airplane seatmate is that, once upon a time, he was living happily ever after – he was his company’s CEO and a professor at the University of Wyoming. But out of the blue he started having panic attacks, was repeatedly hospitalized, and was put on all sorts of medication. At one point he was on seven different types! We gleefully went over the names of different anxiety medications, comparing notes. “Did you try Wellbutrin? Clonazepam? What about Citalopram or Lexapro?” I asked. He laughed, “I’ve been on them all.” 

His tale is ultimately one of success, as he now no longer takes any medication and can manage his anxiety with meditation and exercise. “I’ve awakened,” he said. “Once I was unconscious, living in a dream, but now I’m conscious.” In a lot of ways he reminds me of my fiancé’s oldest friend, who lives in Northern California and never seems to let anything bother him. I wish I could be like that – a totally chilled out dudette. Although, I can’t help wondering, “Who is actually deluded here: the happy or the anxious people?”

I guess I’ll never know the answer to that question, and maybe the answer doesn’t matter. What seems most evident is the immense power my mind has over me. I invent almost all my suffering, and I often believe the insane, catastrophic, and utterly unrealistic things my mind tells me. It makes no sense! My life is really awesome! Give me a break, mind. Sheesh.

My airplane seatmate left me with this phrase, ‘My mind is mine but it is not me.’  “Meditate on that,” he said, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. In response, I had two simultaneous thoughts: “That is stupid” and “That is awesome.” I wonder who said which, me or my mind?

And now, after satisfying my curiosity about Eddie Vedder’s “Society,” I will turn off this somewhat cloying music. It’s time for some green tea and Joni Mitchell. I have a long layover, after all.