I had recently read a book on meditation, and felt I was making great headway in becoming enlightened. My only problem was Rex. He frequently disturbed my bliss. I needed to get him enlightened, too, so he wouldn’t bug the bajeesus out of me.”Rex, I’m going to teach you how to meditate. Just watch me. It’s easy.” I closed my eyes and envisioned a brilliant ball of undulating light in my third eye. My breathing deepened and I suspected I was becoming One With the Universe. I opened my eyes to monitor Rex’s progress. He was gone!

“Rex, you slacker! Get back here. How can I teach to meditate if you wander off without the least bit of interest in becoming enlightened?”

I heard the doggie door in the kitchen flapping back and forth. Either he had heard me from the porch and had come in, or he had been in the kitchen and went outside. I looked in the kitchen. No dog. He had gone outside, probably as a terse comment on my authority issues. Damned dog.

The next day, I tried again. “Rex, I’m going to teach you how to meditate even if it kills you. Now, watch me, and STAY PUT. I don’t want to hear your doggie door when I’m halfway to Nirvana.”

Again I sat him in front of me. “Look, you’re supposed to cross your legs, Indian-style. Here. Kind of sit upright. Yeah, now stick this back leg out this way, and cross it over this way. Good. Now let me grab the other one. Oh, for crying out loud, don’t make such a fuss. No. Just, oh, forget it. Here try this. NO! The other way. Oh, for God’s sakes, Rex. I haven’t even started to meditate and you’ve gotten me all flustered. Just sit there, OKAY? Jeeze! Now I’ll have to meditate another couple of minutes just to get back to normal after dealing with you. What are you anyway, some kind of karmic retribution to me? Was I that horrible in a past life that you showed up in this one? Just close your eyes and sit there.”

A slight wagging of his tail indicated he was in the game with me. Again, I slipped into bliss. After a while, I cracked an eye open to inspect my student. Here was still there! Further study revealed he was snoring. HE WAS ASLEEP! “Rex, that does it. I’m taking you to Tassajara to learn how to meditate. They’ll teach you, you hedonistic heathen!”

Tassajara is a Zen monastery out in the far reaches of Carmel Valley. It is open to the public; they have luxuriant hot springs and mineral baths, and . . . they teach meditation.

The ride was arduous and dusty, but we finally made it. I paid the minimal fee and set off for the hot spring baths with my materialistic student tucked under my arms. I had never seen a dog in the mineral baths, but Rex seemed to enjoy the setting and no one complained. How could they? It was a Zen monastery.

I was in the men’s bath area sitting in the water with another man. He smiled at Rex. “Hey little feller, are you a Zen dog?” Rex wagged his tail. I smelled trouble. The man jokingly bowed to Rex. “What is the meaning of life, oh wise one?”

Rex looked at the creek a few feet away and wagged his tail. “WOW!” said the man. “He knows! That’s it, Rex, LIFE IS A RIVER! Oh, my God, an enlightened dog. Dog is God spelled backwards, you know.” Rex wagged his tail furiously, just to bug me.

“No,” I said, “he’s just a dog who drives me up the wall. He doesn’t know a statue of Buddha from a fire hydrant, and I’ll give you one guess what he does to fire hydrants.”

The man shook his head, “No, he is enlightened! Look into those deep dark eyes of understanding. Look! I can see the Universe in his eyes!”

“No, that’s eye drops for his hay fever. He’s just a dog. A broken fluorescent bulb has more light in it than he does. He doesn’t emit light, he sucks it up!”

The man was still giddy with stumbling upon a Zen Master in a dog suit. “Rex!” he said. “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Rex went to the man in the tub and splashed his front paw on the water. The man yelped. “SEE! THAT IS THE SOUND OF ONE HAND CLAPPING!!!”

“No, that’s just dumb luck. He does it in his water bowl all the time. He just likes to splash water and make a mess . . .”

The guy jumped out of the water, grabbed Rex, put on a robe, and went outside yelling about the twenty-third reincarnation of some dead monk. I followed them out. A crowd was gathering. People were throwing flowers at Rex.

Incense filled the air. The monastery was ringing with Ommmmmmms and sacred chants. “No, he’s just a dog,” I piped in. “He eats pizza. Pees on your leg if he doesn’t like you. Watches ‘Girls Gone Wild’ with me.”

My protests went unheard. Rex was sitting under a large oak tree. Zen students as well as seasoned monks sat at his feet, asking questions as Rex sat there with eyes closed.

“He’s faking it,” I yelled, ‘he’ll be asleep in no time.”

Someone started ringing the gong in celebration of the presence of The Enlightened One. “For God’s sakes,” I screamed, “he’s not Buddha 2.0, he’s just a stupid dog.” I grabbed Rex and headed for my car.

Someone yelled out as we left, “Life is impermanence!”
I yelled back, “Yes, and he’ll get a good dose of impermanence when he gets home.”

On the way back to Monterey I decided to end my meditation practices. Meditation wasn’t helping me find Cosmic balance in life. We stopped at the store and bought a case of discount beer.

Impermanence? Some things never change.

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Contact Tom Burns at: burns100@earthlink.net.