Om Hreem Namaha

Seth was pushing it. He’d taken “fake it til you make it” to the max. Crashing, an arid jolt of pure Sedona air filled his being. He was zapped, but grateful. With the Mustang’s back-road grip reminding him of home, Seth’s tired ankle wrestled with the accelerator until he reached his apartment. That night, he dreamed of ways to break through. For too long, he’d played victim to circumstances-- both at his job at the office, and in his relationship with Mark. To say that the breakup took him by surprise would be an understatement. As a result of their uncoupling, Seth had a complete breakdown. He’d found it hard to even just be. Resolving to be an edgy, heartless vessel, he happily picked up his drinking habit right where he’d left it. Three months later, Seth couldn’t brag about getting clean, because he hadn’t given it any effort. One day, he'd simply stopped, and today, he was determined to start a new life in a new place. His first stop had been Seattle. He’d liked it at first, but the city’s dreary climate was enough to make him move on to the heat of the desert. He laid down, listened to a guided meditation, and took a nap. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Although he was jaded by love’s afterglow and shock, Seth craved companionship and affection. He’d gone months now without either. Feeling concurrently desperate for attention and worthy of a “real” partnership, he took a chance. True, Grindr is really for hookups, but if he was on the app-- he, someone who was open to receiving something more--, didn’t that mean other guys were, too? The first date was a success. Seth ended up going out with Mark several times after that night. Soon after, though, things fizzled. It happened again with a few other men, but at least Seth was trying. He wanted to fill the void he thought he’d developed once Jordan admitted “he’d fallen out of love” with him. This didn’t work. Still, even in the face of mounting bills and past-due rent (a consequence of a broken heart, Seth assured himself), the Casablanca inside him took over, and over, and over. Over. Three forgettable dates later, Seth realized that he needed more than a fresh romantic relationship. So he got help. His shy nature prevented him from being relatively transparent with the counselor for the first two months. Eventually, thought, he shifted and was open to receiving an abundance of wisdom and support. Therapy helped him realize that his “issue” wasn’t about having a boyfriend or not. It was deeper. Things weren’t perfect, but the Earth’s free-fall was beginning to slow down. For the first time in his thirty years of life, Seth tried an antidepressant. He was nervous that it would change his personality, but he promised to ride it out for a few months before deciding to wean off it or continue. That summer, Seth took up flow yoga. He’d abhorred unnecessary physical activity in the past, but this new practice quickly became like desert air to him. Yoga provided him with more than just a temporary high. The sense of clarity it gave him invigorated his spirit. He always looked forward to the conclusion of class, when he’d get to close his eyes and silently repeat his favorite mantra” Om hareem namaha. Laying on his mat in savasana, he pondered, Does it get any better than this?