This evening I was killing a bit of time at a coffeeshop before class. A woman walked up to me, introduced herself as a meditation leader at one of the local sanghas, and proceeded to ask me if she could bask in my, and I quote, “soothing yellow aura” for a few minutes to ground herself.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her my aura probably wasn’t going to ground her tonight, but it might grind her into little shards seeing as I was cranky. Really cranky. To say I was feeling less than charitable towards my fellow humans this evening would be a gross understatement. At the risk of putting too fine a point on it, I’d venture to describe my mood as a wee bit homicidal.

I certainly wasn’t going to tell her that, she seemed so happy to have found me.

The freaky part wasn’t that this happened. It was that this has happened to me before.

Many times.

Not the feeling homicidal part – the part where people want to dwell in my alleged buddha-nature.

Tonight’s encounter reminded me of one that happened in March 2003 in the coffeehouse that was next to my old office, except this woman seemed to be sober and intensely serious.

I hope she found what she was looking for.