"the circle was always perfect"

so, last night was the final meditation-group session and, as expected, it was sad.

the turnout was substantial -- we normally have about eight to ten people show up, but close to 50 came yesterday. the mood was fairly solemn, though there were numerous efforts to lighten things up.

i found myself completely unable to actually meditate, though, because i couldn't get my head past the "this is the last time we'll ever do this"-ness of the proceedings. the funny thing about meditating in a room full of other people meditating is, normally, the really strong, positive, meditative energy you can actually feel as you do so. last night, though, i closed my eyes and all i could feel was this dense sadness filling the space.

and i started feeling overwhelmed with the sense of community. more specifically, the potential loss of that community. being a part of a group of people who genuinely care how you're doing, who genuinely celebrate your successes and willingly help you weather life's trials, is a very special thing. and it's a magical thing when someone tells you how happy they are for you, and you know they really, truly mean it.

when we finished our first meditation, we began the routine discussion period. my nurse friend talked about why she chose to end the group, and mentioned that there's a chance it might start up again in the fall. it seems a meditation teacher she knows has been looking to take over an established group somewhere in the city, so she mentioned ours to him and he may take the reins. we'll see.

then, as we normally do, we went around the room and introduced ourselves by name. only this time, my nurse friend suggested that we also share something about the group that's meant a lot to us, or that we've learned, or just something that we wish for ourselves in the future. in my head i thought, "OMG, how am i going to say anything without crying?!"

the route around the room came to me very quickly. i was fourth. when my turn arrived, i couldn't speak. i knew that if i opened my mouth i wouldn't be able to not cry. so, i sat there, staring at the carpet tiles and trying to will myself out of the pre-cry mode. and, of course, the longer i sat there, silent, the more i could feel all eyes on me, waiting, worrying... and the more i could feel other people suddenly arriving on my wavelength.

a friend who was sitting beside me put her hand on my back. my nurse friend looked over, saw that i had tears welling in my eyes and, bless her, took over for me. "okay, so this is vickie," she said with a laugh (much to my relief!). "vickie's one of the original members of this group." in those few seconds, i managed to take a deep breath and then quickly said, "i was kind of hoping we'd go the other way around the room so i'd have time to compose myself!"

the group laughed. i took another breath and then just choked out, "friendship. that's what the group has meant to me. friendship."

my friend next to me started to offer her thoughts, but she got as far as her name and then the same thing happened to her. and, as we continued around the room, a couple more people found themselves teary... but not nearly as many as i'd expected. go figure. (most cried later, when saying goodbye to my nurse friend. there were SO MANY big, long, sniffly hugs.)

when the path of gratitude reached one of the smart-assiest guys in the group, who usually goes for the punchline or makes some kind of wise-guy remark (which we actually appreciate), he said his name, paused, and then added, "the circle was always perfect."

we were all taken aback.

it was just a beautiful comment, and we couldn't quite believe he'd been the one to say it. and, who knows, maybe he might still have been being a smart ass -- since the geometry of the weekly chair arrangement was occasionally an entertaining point of contention, this might have been his last poke at it -- but, really, he couldn't have put it any better.