(An Empirical Observation in a Monastic Setting)
An Indian woman snores when she meditates.
A Japanese girl sits perfectly upright on her cushion and coughs tidily, daintily, her small hands fluttering to her mouth like birds.
An Indian woman rips a huge fart, looks over her shoulder to see if you’ve heard, and then snorts, hitches up her pants, and continues on her way.
A Japanese girl takes small, delicate sips of soup, her knees pressed together, hair in black braids.
An Indian woman lumbers through a pack of wild, excitable monkeys, swinging a menacing stick and grumbling as she goes. The chattering monkeys scatter in every direction.
A Japanese girl sees the monkeys, emits a shriek, and hops behind a tree, peering out cautiously only after several minutes have passed.
An Indian woman cuts in the dishwashing line, pushing skinny white girls out of her way to get to the sink first. Then she takes her sweet time washing a single cup. She glares at everyone on her way out.
A Japanese girl waits patiently in line, wearing an ‘I Love Tibet’ tee shirt, and black leggings that make her tiny legs look like twigs.
An Indian woman yawns loudly and unabashedly in the silent meditation hall, wrapping up the theatrical release by muttering, “Om, Shiva, Shiva!”
A Japanese girl never says a word, just wraps her yellow fuzzy shawl around her shoulders and meditates obediently to enlightenment.