by Kirsten Smith
“Now, picture yourself somewhere you feel safe and at peace.” The voice was soothing like a cup of warm milk. Kinda smokey sounding. Female, and I guessed, a bit younger than me.
I’d come across the guided meditation in an app called Tranquality. The app didn’t have any reviews yet, but it was free—just my price range. My friend Rhonnie swears by this meditation stuff, she’s constantly yakking about how ‘it’s totally life changing,’ and ‘literally cut her work stress levels in half.’ We’re both executive assistants, at different companies, so if Rhonnie says it helps, then alright. Fine. I’ll bite. Because she gets it. My work stress, that is.
So far, so good.
I’d just taken three deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as instructed, and already my shoulder and back muscles were unclenching.
“Do you have your safe and peaceful location in mind?”
Oh, crap. Hold on. I’d been distracted. In my head I flipped through all the peaceful places I could think of and decided on a vacant beach I’d accidentally discovered by wandering off a path in Costa Rica. This was decades ago, but I never forgot it. The beach was a flawless crescent of fine pale sand that cupped around turquoise water, backed by craggy rock formations and lush jungle. I’d untied my sarong and stretched out on it for hours in the shade of a leaning palm.
Okay, got it.
“When you’re ready, turn your awareness to physical sensations. What can you feel as you sit quietly in your peaceful location?”
The sand beneath me…patches of warm sunlight on my skin…a cool breeze.
“Now, think about the sounds around you. What do you hear?”
Waves lapping…birds calling in the trees…my boss asking if I finished the damn spreadsheet yet—
“If your mind wanders, don’t worry. That’s completely normal. Let’s try a mantra that may help bring your attention back to the present moment: Be here now. Be here now. Be here now. Go ahead and repeat this on your own.”
Be here now. Be here now. Be here now. Be here now. To my surprise, it worked. My boss and my desk dissolved away and the beach regained its full color and clarity. I again heard the gently sweeping ocean and the tropical birds. But something felt off. Restrictive somehow. My breathing quickened.
“Remember, you are safe and sound in your chosen space,” the voice crooned. “Nothing can harm you.”
I attempted to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt weighted closed.
“I invite you to take several deep breaths to soothe your nervous system. Breathe innnnn. And ouuuuuut.”
Perplexed, I tried to prod my stuck eyelids and found my arms were too heavy to move. I wanted to cry out, but my lips seemed to be sealed. Was this normal? Rhonnie never said anything about feeling trapped inside yourself.
The voice sounded oddly irritated. “Are you breathing? It’s important to breathe deeply. Let’s try again. Innnnn…”
I stopped listening. The beach vanished. I started to mentally thrash through a tank of Jell-o that was my brain to get back to my body, which I sensed was reachable. Presumably, I was still sitting cross-legged on the sofa in the safety of my apartment.
“You’re not breathing deeply, Tricia.”
My heart slipped into my stomach. You just said my name. How do you know my name? I thought this was a recording?
The voice sighed and took on a cooler tone. “Our app can’t help you if you don’t follow the instructions. Do you want to continue to dwell on your stressful job and your awful boss? Or, would you like to have inner peace?”
What the holy hell is going on? Did you drug me? Am I tripping right now? Or—or, did you hypnotize me? Because I will sue your asses for invasion of…mental space…or whatever.
“Tricia, we’re just trying to help you. You signed up for this, nobody forced you.”
No. Uh-uh. This is—this is kidnapping. I did not sign up for this! Exactly how long are you planning to keep me hostage in my own goddamn head? And how is this shit even possible?
“Technology is a remarkable thing,” said the voice admiringly. “You’ll stay until you reach a calm and deep meditative state.”
You can’t expect me to be calm during a freaking kidnapping.
“Other Tranquality users have proven it’s quite doable, though it may take a few days.”
A few days? I’ll die, I’ll starve to death.
“We’ve found that given the choice of very real death or deep meditation, the mind will force itself into the necessary meditative levels as a means of self-preservation. Done correctly, this state will become permanent for the user.
I’m sorry, permanent? What is the point of…?
Tranquality’s goal is to free users’ minds from the stress, anger, and hate that plagues us all. Our aspiration is to create dramatic, lasting change to help foster a more peaceful world. One user at a time.”
So you’re brain terrorists.
“Not at all, Tricia. We think of ourselves as negativity disruptors, working toward the global common good. Now, are you ready to again be fully present in your peaceful location? Let’s repeat the mantra: Be here now. Be here now. Be here now. Go ahead and continue on your own.”
I swallowed and tried to slow my heaving breath and pulse.
You can do this, Tricia. Just fucking relax. Be here now. Be here now. Be here now. Be here now…
END
Kirsten Smith is a writer, photographer, and travel addict who lives and works in San Francisco. Her writing has appeared (or will soon appear) in Esoterica, JAKE the Magazine, Flora Fiction, and SPANK the CARP. Her photos have appeared in Broken Lens Journal, Cosmic Daffodil, and more. Follow her on Instagram @kirsten.wanders.
