How to meditate by Jack Kerouac
Fall, hands a clasped, into instantaneous ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine, the gland inside of my brain discharging the good glad fluid (holy fluid) as I hap-down and hold all my body parts down to a deadstop trance-healing all my sicknesses-erasing all-
Not even the shred of a I-hope-you or a loony balloon left in it, but the mind blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought comes-a-springing from afar with its held-forth figure of image, you spoof it out, you spuffit out, you fake it, and it fades, and thought never comes-and with joy you realize for the first time thinking’s just like not thinking- so I don’t have to think anymore
Propaganda: Meditation: fidgeting, obsessive thoughts covered in to-do lists cycling thought 5, 6, 1000 times a minute in between lapses of consciousness awoken by the sound of the snore and thud of the head. Bruised butt. Badgering myself into succumbing to the promised surrender and released within the fantasy of nirvana till the buzzer finally rings and a smile appears on my face knowing, that this shit is done and I can embrace the lesser suffering called life and it is good.