It rolls like waves then explodes like a clap of thunder. My uncontrollable “HAAAAHAAAHAAA” that sounds like a seal’s bark to you. So you clap your hands like fins and I am completely undone.
Now we are engaged in that silent earthquake laughter, eyes shut, lungs desperate for air, gasping “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
You need water but you can’t walk.
You rest your head on the wall, clutch your stomach and try to say “Make it s-s-s-stop.”
I imitate you. We’ve gone mad.
You try again but your voice cracks. I make a goose honking sound. Someone snorts.
Cracking open in hilarious pain.
The world is still. I am present with my seemingly elusive breath.
This, the most obnoxious form of meditation, is my favorite.