Instruction:
Write a short story (under 250 words) about meditation. The narrator should be uncomfortable.

Response:
Our guide asks us to close our eyes and softly leads us through a meditation: we’re in a meadow, leaning against an old tree. The trunk supports us as we become one with the earth, anchoring ourselves in place, feeling at peace.

She gives us a mantra: “I am…” and we fill in the blank and silently repeat the statement in our minds.  

“I am human,” I think to myself as I visualize myself becoming one with the tree, growing roots and hardening, knowing I will eventually be chopped down along with the other trees that must have once been in this lonely meadow. 

When our guide softly brings us back to reality she encourages us to share our “I am” mantras and I panic as the other participants declare: “I am brave.” “I am enough.” “I am still.” 

I don’t repeat my mantra. I don’t want to explain why I needed to feel human, how I saw myself transforming into not only the tree, but then a sprite, a creature of the forest.

“I am okay,” I whisper. My declaration is met with universal head nodding.

I feel guilty about changing my mantra for a moment, but reassure myself of my statement’s authenticity: I’m no longer a tree, I’m in a studio with several other people, attempting to let go of my social anxieties, and I am okay.