Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, or Hasbro's Nerf brand. I also do not own, nor am I affiliated with the YMCA. I'll wipe them off and put them back when I'm done.
AN: This chapter feels low on action, but I think it's necessary for the plot. And the OC will not be appearing again in person.
Chapter 2 – How Long Can Five Minutes Be?
Four days after what was now being referred to as "The Nerf Incident," I was still being careful about how I sat down. And I thought those things weren't supposed to hurt. In their defense, I suspect that Hasbro never intended Nerf footballs to be flung by the powers of a half-demon superhero.
Cyborg and I had been playing Super Monkeys V on the GameStation most of that time. Well, Cyborg was playing. I'd spent the last few days thinking about what Cyborg and I had talked about before Raven gave me an education in why I shouldn't spill her tea. And it was slowly beginning to sink in. 'All the things I ask her to do with us are things we'd do whoever we were with. But they really aren't things that I think Raven would do unless we asked her. I guess trying this meditation thing isn't too unlike me asking her to play GameStation,' I thought.
"Dude, that's like the three hundredth time that I've beaten you today!" exclaimed Cyborg. "Would you please start paying attention!"
"I believe, Cyborg, that it is actually the three hundred thirty second time that you have done the kicking of Beast Boy's ass since you started playing this game." Leave it to Starfire to rub my nose in defeat, in the most cheerful of fashions. I think that Star could make the flu sound like a happy occasion that should be celebrated. Probably with pudding. Ugh.
"Forget it, Cy. I guess I'm just not in the mood to be playing games. Too sore, or something," I said. "I'm going to my room for a bit." I got up and moaned quietly as stiff, bruised muscles protested my asking them to do something useful.
As I was walking out of the room, I heard Starfire ask, "Friend Cyborg, what is wrong with Beast Boy? He does not seem to be himself lately."
When I got back to my room, I tripped over a pile of clothes I'd forgotten about. 'Damn. Need to do laundry today,' I thought. 'Well, I can do it in a while.' I walked to my bed and sat down on the bottom bunk.
I looked over my room, and realized that it was a mess, even by my standards. In the last few days, I had found it easier by far to just drop things where I was than to put thing where they belonged. 'Maybe I can hire a maid. Or a janitor who can secretly sneak in here at night to clean my room and put things up.'
Star was right. I really hadn't been myself lately. And I couldn't ignore it anymore. The stuff Cyborg had said to me about inviting Raven to do things I liked to do, but never bothering to try things she like had finally gotten through to me. 'Wonder how many times he's tried to tell me that before…' I looked at my clock and saw that it was 11:34.
"Just enough time to get there," I said to myself, as I opened the window. I transformed into a vulture, and jumped out of the tower. I caught an updraft, and climbed a thermal until I was well over the island. Turning away from the tower, I started flying to the city.
I walked into a building near downtown that appeared to have seen better days. Inside, I was surprised to see that while the furnishings were old, they were kept extraordinarily clean. There was a counter on the right with some brochures about the YMCA lying out, and ahead of me, I could see several treadmills and other exercise equipment. Behind the counter sat a young woman, and an old man.
I thought about flirting with the girl while asking for directions to the meditation group, but decided against it. I was too nervous and didn't want to sound like a huge idiot in front of her. And I still didn't have a Moped to show off. So I walked up to the old guy. "Hey, um," I started. "I was wondering if you could tell me where the meditation group meets?"
The old guy looked over at me, surprise showing on his face. "Well, now. Haven't had many people looking for that lately. Much less a Teen Titan. Hang on a moment," he turned and picked up the phone, and pressed a few buttons. After a moment, he said, "John, we've got a young fellow here looking for the meditation group. You want to come down for him? See you soon." The older man hung the phone up, looked at me and said, "John will be right down to take you to the meditation group. You can wait over there."
I looked "over there." Three folding chairs that had seen better days were lined up opposite the counter. I sat down in the one closest to the doors in case I decided that I couldn't take it and needed to bolt. While I waited, my foot started to tap, and I started counting the spots on the floor tiles. 'Am I doing the right thing? Why am I here? Maybe I should just go… I'm probably just bothering this John guy,' I thought while I waited.
I had just started to see which animals I could make out of the dots on the floor, when I heard a man walking towards me. 'This must be John', I thought.
He started speaking as I looked up, "Hi, my name is John. Are you here for the meditation group?"
As I looked at him, I realized that while I hadn't been sure what I was expecting, it wasn't this. I guess I was expecting someone a little, well, middle aged and doughy. Instead, I was saw a young man in his late twenties, who stood about 5'8" and if his forearms were any indication, wasn't doughy in the slightest. He was wearing a pair of work boots, well faded jeans, and an orange oxford shirt that he had left untucked and rolled the sleeves up on. I felt my brain pop into neutral as it tried to adjust to the reality before me.
'Crap, I'm actually gonna have to go to this meditation thing and I have no idea what I'm getting myself into' my mind raced. Then my mouth opened, "Well, um, yea. I guess. Oh, and I'm Beast Boy," I wanted to crawl under a rock given how intelligent my reply sounded.
John just smiled at this and said, "Well, then. Come with me." He waited while I got out of my chair, and then started leading me deeper into the building and up to a room on the second floor.
"Well, here we are," John said, as he opened the door to a room. I stepped into what appeared to be a small office, but without any of the usual office furniture. Instead, there were a half dozen chairs, and a single bookshelf against the wall. The windows had their blinds up, letting in the soft light of early spring.
"Um, like where is everyone?" I asked.
"Well," John started, "today it looks like it's going to be just us. Tuesday isn't actually one of the days that we run the meditation clinic on, but I come in anyway in case someone really needs a quiet place."
"Oh. Well, then I guess I should really get going. I don't want to be bothering you," I said, relieved that I didn't actually have to go through with this.
I was turning back to the door when John spoke again, "Really, it's not a bother. I was going to do some meditation myself." He paused, as my shoulders slumped. "You're new at this," was all he said.
"How could you tell?" I asked.
"Well, for one, you don't look terribly comfortable here. Tell you what. Why don't you grab a chair and tell me why you came today," John said as he took a seat himself.
Hell. I was feeling trapped. So my choices were to flee, answer John's questions seriously, or do what I usually do. I went for the usual. I noticed a whiteboard on the wall with some pens. I grabbed those and quickly drew a picture of me and some aliens. "Well, John. I'm really not the sort of person who would try meditation. So I figure that zombie aliens kidnapped me, probed me and left the suggestions to try meditating as part of their experiments on superheroes. Or," I began as I drew another bad picture of myself, this time restrained by duct tape, "I was kidnapped and replaced by a perfect doppelganger – except for the inexplicable desire to meditate."
I looked at John. He wasn't buying it. He was buying less of my explanation than Raven ever did. 'Crap. I'll just have to tell him the truth,' I thought. "Well, John, the truth is I'm not really sure why I'm here. I was having a problem with one of my friends not wanting to do anything with me and another one of my friends pointed out that I never ask my friend to do things that she likes to do, so maybe I should try doing something that she likes doing," I stopped because I was out of breath. But I felt better for saying why I was there.
"Your friend who likes to meditate. Does she have a name?" John inquired.
Knowing that Raven would kill me for talking about her, I decided to obfuscate a little. "I call her Rae." Enough truth that I wasn't lying, but vague enough – I hoped – to prevent John from immediately knowing that I was talking about Raven.
"And why do you suppose that Rae meditates?" John asked.
"Well, I know that she does it a lot when she's stressed out. She says that it keeps her centered." I stop, not knowing why else Raven might meditate.
"That's a good reason to meditate. For many people it does bring a certain calmness. In fact that's one of the benefits I get from meditation as well," John said. "I also get a sense of oneness with existence, and an understanding that I am not so different from anyone else. And if you meditate for a while, you'll probably find your own reasons for doing it. Do you know how to meditate?"
"Well, not really, no. Rae just sits there and keeps saying the same thing over and over," I said, thinking once again about how peaceful she looked, floating a few feet off the ground, eyes closed, face relaxed.
"That's called a mantra, Beast Boy. She's probably using it to focus," John explained. Realizing that I might actually stay for a while, I took a seat across from John. "There are many ways to meditate, and some work better for some people than others. That's part of why we have this meditation group. Each time we meet, we try a different form of meditation. But since this is your first time, we're going to try something easy. Breath counting."
I know that I looked at him like he was nuts. "What, I just sit here and count how often I breathe?"
"Not exactly." He produced an egg timer from his pocket. "We're going to do this for about five minutes. But the first thing is your posture. You want to sit like a mountain," As he said this, I noticed him shift slightly in his chair, his back was straight, and his body was centered over his hips. I shifted from my sprawling position to more closely match his posture. "You can do this with your eyes open, or closed. You want to count your exhales, one through four, starting again at one. And focus on your breathing. Now, it is likely that your mind is going to wander. If you catch it, look at the thought and say, 'Well, that is an interesting idea' and let it go. Think you can do it?"
I nodded, and he inverted the egg timer and set it on the ground. I closed my eyes and started to count my breathing.
In. Out. 'One.'
In. Out. 'Two.'
In. Out. 'Three.'
In. Out. 'Four.'
In. Out. 'One.'
In. Out. 'Two.'
In. Out. 'I wonder what Raven is doing right now. She's probably sitting in the rec room, reading one of her creepy books. I wonder what it is that she sees in those. Crap. Thinking, not counting. But it was interesting. I'll start over'
In. Out. 'One.'
In. Out. 'Two.'
In. Out. 'How can I get Cyborg to try some tofu? I know it's not going to kill him, but he doesn't seem to understand that. Wait, interesting, but not meditating.'
In. Out. 'One.'
In. Out. ' Maybe Star and Robin would help me get Cy to try some tofu? Or Raven could hold him down. Wait. Interesting, but not meditating.'
In. Out. 'One.'
In. Out. 'Two.'
In. Out. 'Is it over yet? I want to go back to the tower. Maybe annoy Raven. Or replace Cyborg's meat with tofu.' I opened my eyes and saw that far less than half the sand had drained in the egg timer. 'How am I ever going to do this for five minutes? Damn it! It shouldn't be this hard!' I closed my eyes again and angrily started counting my breaths again.
After what felt like an eternity of fighting my mind (and losing), I heard John speak. "Time's up. How are you holding up?"
"Bah!" I replied, thinking that it wasn't my most intelligent answer ever. But I was really irritated at how hard it had been to try to focus on something as simple as counting.
"You were getting angry that your mind was wandering, weren't you?" John asked.
'How can he know that?' I thought to myself, forgetting my outburst a moment before.
He continued to speak, "It's a normal reaction when you meditate. Your mind wants to wander. It doesn't like discipline. It would rather be anywhere but focused on a single task for any length of time. And many of the younger people that I know – the ones who grew up on television and video games - have an even harder time with it." He laughed. "I remember when I first started meditating. I thought I was going to explode. And I just kept getting pissed off that my mind wanted to think about something else. It helped when I found out that it's called 'monkey mind.'"
'Great,' I thought, 'he's telling the guy who can be a monkey that he has the mind of one.' I asked, "And how do I get past that?"
"Well, if I were you, I'd try to meditate for five minutes twice a day, and come back here at noon the next few Tuesdays and Thursdays."
He handed me the egg timer, and I said, "Uh, sure. See you Thursday."
As I stood on the street corner, it occurred to me that I really had no idea what I had gotten myself into, or why I had agreed to come back.
