485. Ziggy’s Diary: 13

Ugh. Was afraid this would happen. Jenn’s little flipout about me not talking made everyone else realize that A) they had missed the whole fact that I wasn’t talking, and B) that now I’m teacher’s pet. So they all hate me, basically. I thought it would blow over but a week has gone by and ugh.

This is what’s wrong with people. They all want me to give a fuck what they think. Are they insane? Isn’t the point of a spiritual retreat to get away from bullshit like worrying about what other people think?

I don’t give a fuck what they think about me
or my silence
or my lack of giving a fuck.

But they’ve cohered as a group now and all this negative attention is pointed my direction. Which means I sit down to meditate in the back of the class and it’s like every person meditating in front of me is mentally turning around and glaring at me.

And now my silence becomes a prison because I feel like I have to keep it up or they’ll ridicule me. If I actually don’t give a fuck what they think, then why does their ridicule matter? It’s not supposed to, but suddenly it does, and THAT SUCKS.

Veddy is unhappy about this turn of events. I can see it in his eyes, but he’s a good faker, he keeps on smiling and laughing, and waiting for the children to settle down and come around. I just realized what a demoralizing business this must be. He takes a group of two dozen spoiled Westerners like us every couple of months and spends time with us and does all this and do any of them ever actually change? Probably not. But they pay their money, right? They probably don’t learn squat but at least maybe they go back home feeling better about themselves.

This is what happens when I don’t charm all the people around me and make them love me. They hate me. I tried to stay invisible. I tried to stay on the fringe, in the back, forgotten, unnoticed. It almost worked.

I’ve got two choices now. Start talking, take over, seduce as many as I have to, and make myself the ringleader… or suffer.

I’m not here to be a ringleader. It’d mean elevating Jenn along with me, too. That’s not what she’s here for either! And there would be casualties. There always are. Frenchy’s ego would take a beating, for one.

Suffer. Let’s try it. Plenty of spiritual leaders have claimed to attain enlightenment through it. Somehow I feel it would be easier if they were actually beating me with sticks instead of just thinking daggers of hate at me through their minds, though. If they were beating me I could disassociate.

Wait. Disassociate. Can it be done purely mentally? Yes! Of course! Because the me that they’re aiming the daggers at is MY EGO. It’s the part that cares what the fuck they think. Separate that and they can hate that all they want because the rest of me… isn’t there! Cut that head off right now!

Where am I? I’ll be over here in my cave of enlightenment not giving a fuck because this is the part of me that doesn’t!

Well, we’ll see if it works. When we’re actually sitting there in meditation tomorrow. Can I do it? I don’t know.