Attending my first meditation group many years ago, I was open and ready to learn. The rest of the group seemed quietly eager.

The teacher came in dressed head to toe in white and sat in front of us. He seemed to pray for a moment then opened his eyes and began to speak.

He started by criticising the energy in the room, telling us that if we should attend another class we would all be required to wear white. Okay, I thought.

He gave his talk, but seemed very agitated afterwards. We all sat and waited patiently while he sat with eyes closed. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and told us he was annoyed at the ‘energy’ in the room and was feeling quite angry at us. A few people apologised and we all squirmed in our seats.

I picked up my bag and got ready to leave. He asked me what I was doing. I calmly said I had to leave.

I remember wondering if he was going to bring out a tray of Kool-aid for us to drink.

I remember this like it was yesterday. He told us he was perfect and that he was god and he could help us see that. I walked towards the door and said ‘you have a big brown stain on the back of your pants…god.’ I saw it when he walked in.

I don’t know what happened to the rest of the people in that room after I left. I hope they didn’t drink the refreshments.

I am very picky and alert to teachers making mistakes. My opinion of them suffers, my opinion of their message suffers, especially when they can’t see their error.

Right now, I’m sitting in a lecture and the presenter made me snort when he referred to the Oxford comma as a Cambridge comma.

I’m a tough audience.

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