Why I Will Never be a Disciple or a Stand-up Comic

I cannot remember the punchlines to jokes to save my life. It's bad. Especially since I like a really bad joke now and again.

On Saturday, I was at the coffee shop down the street from me, studying, and a guy sitting a table over struck up a conversation with me. Turns out he's a yoga instructor, and we have this really intense conversation about breathing-focused yoga and how, physiologically, it just makes sense that focusing on your breathing and increasing your oxygen intake can make you feel euphoric and tapped into something bigger. He has me do a brief breathing-exercise with my eyes closed in the middle of the bustling coffee shop, and I comply. It feels good to get back in touch with my body for just a few minutes. I bring up the topic of the Breath of Fire (which I find fascinating and reenergizing) and he shares with me an allegory that gets me all giddy and shit because IT MAKES SENSE. It is simple but profound in its simplicity, and I pack his words up carefully in my pocket to take home with me.

Later that day, I'm talking about this shared moment with a friend, and I go to recount the allegory he told me, and midway through the story, I realize I CAN'T REMEMBER THE KEY MOMENT IN THE TALE. I'm telling her, "There's a monk who's trudging along barefoot, carrying an enormously heavy bag of grain, and a man stops him and asks, 'What is enlightenment?' The monk drops the bag. Then the man asks the monk, um, the man asks the monk. Ah shit! I can't remember what the fucking man asked the monk! He asks something, and in response, the monk picks up his bag, and he heads off again on foot." I am withered and angry at myself for being such a senile asshole.

The long and short of the allegory is that, as the yoga instructor explained to me, he had spent all this time amassing new yoga techniques, learning and learning and learning as much as he possibly could until one day, he just realized that no matter how many techniques he got under his belt, the truth was, it all came back to this simple act of being in the body and focusing on that small simple breath moving in and out. Point being: sometimes it takes all this journeying and searching to get you to understand that it's this very simple truth you started with that is the root of all things.

Seriously, though: what an asshole I am. I have this really wonderful bit of wisdom imparted upon me unexpectedly on a Saturday afternoon, and I can't remember the f-ing punchline.

Could you imagine the ensuing disaster if I *did* start rolling as a disciple?



The Gospel According to Lindy Loo

Me: And, um, God came down and said to His disciples, "All you need is love."

Disciple #2: "All you need is love?"

Me: Yes. God said, "All you need is love, love. Love is all you need."

Disciple #2: Isn't that The Beatles?

Me: No. So sayeth the Lord.

Disciple #2: No seriously: Magical Mystery Tour.

Me: (sighing) Fine. God came down and said to His disciples, "A midget and a hooker walk into a bar..."

-------