I had just stepped away from the dining room when my dad blurted what had seemingly been lodged in his throat for the past hour.
“Tom, do you remember the feeling of being inside the woman? It feels so good you remember, so okay, the feeling that you have when you become one with the woman when you are inside. Do you know?”
His face was mixture of whimsical smirk and collective nostalgia. I would not respond. I feared the floodgates that would yield to this monstrous conversation.
“Tom? You know when you are one with her, it feels sooo good, not just physical, but it is wonderful for two people to become one; it is the best feeling in the world to become one with someone, did you know that when you meditate you not only become one with one person, but you become one with all the elements of the universe.”
So there it was. That was the reason why this 50 year old man-child insists to me that all thinking was toxic for the mind, and that one should spend as much time as possible in peaceful(?) meditation. If he had only told me from the start that meditation was akin to the toe curling, vascular squeezing, torrential gushing of the gonads, I would’ve been more obliged to give it a whirl.