Beryl Cultivates her Life Energy

It was mid-July, well into what should have been the summer’s Dog Days. Lately, though, the weather had barely been woofing. Cool breezes caromed off the lake, filtering through the city, allowing grateful Torontonians to keep their windows open and their paycheck-sucking air conditioners off. The roses had passed their peak and were looking brownish at their extremities, but the daylilies had emerged, rudely orange and thrusting through the fences along the laneways of Beryl’s neighborhood.

Beryl, who was newly and grumpily unemployed, did not notice the garish splendor of the flowers as she trudged toward the meditation center, a few blocks away from her Riverdale home. She had passed this store-front enterprise on other walks. More than a couple of times she had paused and thought about the sign that was posted in its window: inner peace at a reasonable price. 

Beryl sighed. She could certainly use the inner peace; there was no doubt about that. Money may be tight, with only Employment Insurance as an income source, but surely the promised serenity would be worth the investment. Today, at last, she intended to force herself to go inside the meditation center and investigate the options for classes. 

Beryl knew that she would need every last bit of self-discipline that she possessed to do this. The idea of seeking spiritual enlightenment through a fusion of her scattered mind and her lumpy, middle-aged body was daunting. Doing what in her mind were goofy new-age exercises, while surrounded by people who were likely in much better mental and physical condition than she was, held little appeal. However, she had told herself over and over that she needed a full body/mind overhaul and that she would give meditation a try. And so, with steely resolution, she entered the training center.  

It was a small operation, with a bare-bones reception area hardly large enough for a yogi to swing a cat.  Not that a yogi would ever do such a terrible thing, Beryl chided herself. There were two visitors’ chairs of tangerine-colored, molded plastic set on flimsy, chrome legs and a black cube table that held a stack of tattered magazines. The one on top showed an ethereal-looking female model posed in an improbable pretzel position. It made Beryl’s muscles ache just to look at it. Buzzing overhead fluorescent lights added a pinch of hostility and the overall ambiance of the place was austere and unwelcoming

Beryl wondered how this minimalistic décor could promote the achievement of inner harmony. Perhaps the center’s reductionist style was a reflection of low enrolment and shaky financial resources. She made a mental note:  at most, she would choose the package with the lowest number of required classes. If the place were to go broke, she might find herself locked out. Certainly, the prospect of meditating on the street would not be conducive to achieving a state of inner peace.

Despite her misgivings, Beryl stayed and waited for an employee to arrive and greet her. It had taken every bit of self-discipline to make herself come and she couldn’t leave now. Besides, from her perspective in front of the reception desk, she could see a slice of the mirrored studio where, at the moment, no class was in progress. It looked much more welcoming than the dreary reception area. 

As Beryl stood there wondering what to do, a man, thirty-ish, appeared, moving with unhurried fluidity, yet talking with vivacity on his cellphone. He spoke a language that Beryl did not recognize and she wondered what he was saying. The man ignored her as he continued his rapid-fire side of what was evidently a very amusing conversation. Taking a seat on a stool behind the reception desk, he took his time in concluding the call.

As she waited for him to finish, she studied him. He was dark-haired, vaguely Eastern in looks, and on the chubby side of average. The plumpness struck Beryl as incongruous. Shouldn’t a meditation centre employee be thin and ascetic? And, it was also strange that he was laughing and gossiping in such an un-serene manner in this place dedicated to meditation. Beryl disapproved.

She stood her ground and showed no sign of leaving, though, and eventually the man grudgingly broke off his lively conversation. He tidied some papers on the reception desk and blinked a few times, then introduced himself as Sereno. You’ve got to be kidding me, Beryl thought. She suppressed a giggle. If you’re Sereno, then I’m Allura, superheroine of gorgeousness. Allura, AKA Beryl, forced herself to maintain a serious, inquisitive demeanor as Sereno took a deep breath. He took a moment to collect himself, appeared to wind himself up, and then launched into what was likely his standard sales pitch. 

His patter was geared to any neophyte who might cross the meditation center’s threshold in search of enlightenment. He did not ask Beryl what she was most interested in or what she wanted to achieve. Sereno merely told her that she could choose between beginner’s lessons in Tai Chi or Qigong. Tai Chi, according to Sereno, would require more self-discipline, because Beryl would have to master one hundred and eight moves quite quickly (fortunately, not all in the first lesson), attend classes regularly, and apply a great deal of focus. This, to Beryl, sounded daunting. Also, as a rather dumpy, out-of-shape person, Beryl believed that she would look very silly doing Tai Chi and would probably sabotage herself by laughing uproariously throughout class whenever she happened to catch a glimpse of her uncoordinated self in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

On the other hand, Qigong could be just the answer. From what Sereno explained, there didn’t seem to be as great a need for self-discipline, at least in the early classes. Even better, Sereno claimed that the effects would be magical and immediate. A beginner such as Beryl would feel an instant sense of well-being and would walk out of the first class as though treading on a cloud, with her mood elevated and her soul positively burbling.

Well, that settled it. Qigong it would be. 

But she needed a few days to think about it before she could commit. This was a big life change for her to make and there was no sense in rushing these things. So, Beryl helped herself to a printed schedule of the classes, and told Sereno that she would likely return next week to sign up officially. He smiled vaguely, waved limply, and was back on his phone before she opened the door to leave.

Back at home, as she bit into a piece of honey-dripping baklava that she had purchased from a Greek bakery on her return trip, Beryl chided herself for not signing up immediately. It was so like her, having good intentions but zero follow-through. How could she ever pull herself out of her midlife slump if she didn’t give herself a well-needed push? She knew that the sooner she started, the sooner she would reap the benefits. Sereno had promised her a burbling soul, and who wouldn’t want that, after all, and at a reasonable cost, too? And, at least she would get inner amusement out of these lessons, even she if she never discovered inner peace.

Thus, a few days later, she found herself fully invested, standing in the studio warming up with several other enlightenment-seeking folks, all clad in yoga-style gear ranging from trendy to shabby. Beryl’s own much-laundered, gray-ish clothes were at the lower end of the fashion spectrum, but then so was her physique. And her mood. And her savings account. Sigh.

Sereno, who was teaching the class, gave them explicit instructions, and Beryl’s mind snapped to the task at hand. She followed his directions, bending her knees and twisting her torso from side to side as she rotated from her hips and shot out the palms of her hands with each swivel. Sereno, who was actually a lot more authoritative and believable than Beryl had expected him to be, told the class that this particular exercise was the first method of purging one’s body of stagnant qi. 

Whatever stagnant qi might be, Beryl did feel better when she had been told by Sereno that they had all successfully expelled it. Amazingly enough, she hadn’t even laughed when she had caught sight of herself in the mirror, flailing away obediently. Maybe Sereno’s obvious sincerity and the composure of the other students were having a good influence on her.

Next on the agenda was a series of exercises designed to strengthen the five main organs:  lungs, kidneys, heart, liver, and spleen. Sereno explained that each organ had an emotion attached to it. First up were the lungs, which were tied to the emotion of grief, and the class, under Sereno’s scrutiny, exhaled and inhaled in synchronization, breathing out the nasty old feelings and breathing in the new positive ones. They continued moving along smartly through all the organs, doing a set of special contortions for each and ending with exercises for the spleen, the organ of worry. Beryl struggled to keep up with the others as they metaphorically if not physically, cleansed all their innards, worked their meridians, and focused like mad. 

Beryl was not a natural at Qigong. All movements were supposed to be fluid and mystical. Hers were clunky and over-thought. Sereno’s instructions were very specific, right down to how the tongue should be held inside the mouth. Inevitably, just as Beryl achieved correct placement of her hands during a given exercise, she would lose the proper position of her pesky tongue, or her head, or her spine, or her knees. She found herself concentrating harder than she had in weeks.

Working their way through the litany of the five major organs took most of the hour. In the final ten minutes of the class, Sereno tossed cushions to the participants and asked them to find a spot on the floor and sit. Relaxing in perfect lotus postures—all except for Beryl, who had to struggle just to sit in a basic cross-legged position—they were called upon by Sereno to close their eyes and summon strong mental images that were intended to repel pernicious external forces. He told them to gather energy from the earth and energy from the heavens. They were to imagine animal guardians: to the front, a phoenix; to the back, a turtle shell; on the right, a prowling white tiger; on the left, a coiling dragon. Sereno asked them to lock these images in their minds and called upon each creature to whirl, counter-clockwise, then spin in a vortex, upwards in a funnel. Finally, he commanded these forces to merge into armor, protecting each class member’s body and soul from evil forces.

With her eyes closed, Beryl was pleased that she was able to visualize these images quite clearly. She could picture the whole shielding menagerie, even though her conjured-up dragon was an awful lot like the jolly one on an old TV show that had been a favorite of her kids when they had been young. She’d have to toughen up that little fellow if the pernicious external forces were to be kept at bay.

The class was over. Beryl felt refreshed, mentally alert, and physically energized. She was proud of herself for having taken most of the session seriously, successfully suppressing her self-deprecating sense of humor. Sereno had turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher and, yes, she had benefitted. She would plan to return.

On the way home, Beryl walked with a lighter step and a happier heart. For the first time that summer, she noticed the bold orange of the day lilies. She felt the refreshing breeze from Lake Ontario. With gratitude, she thought about the four imaginary creatures that were surrounding and guarding her. Resplendent phoenix, resilient turtle, fierce tiger, and, let’s face it, cute little dragon. She would need their combined strength to help her think more positively. Her four guardians would guide her through this period of unemployment and eventually help her land that next job. 

And, with bad qi successfully banished through ongoing Qigong classes, land it she most definitely would. By fall at the very latest; Beryl was sure of this. She smiled at the glorious flowers in her neighbors’ yards and felt happier than she had in several weeks. Inner peace would lead to external success. It was just a matter of persistence and time.